


At the Mouth of Hell: Season 1

by grahamburgers



Series: At the Mouth of Hell [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anchors, Blood, Blood Drinking, Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, Character Turned Into Vampire, Charmed References, Cheerleaders, Cordettes, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Episode: s01e01 Welcome to the Hellmouth, Episode: s01e01 Wolf Moon, Episode: s01e02 Second Chance At First Line, Episode: s01e02 The Harvest, Episode: s01e03 Pack Mentality, Episode: s01e03 The Witch, Episode: s01e05 The Tell, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Lacrosse Team, Major Character Undeath, Monster of the Week, Multiple Crossovers, References to Supernatural (TV), Sunnydale, The Argent Family, The Hellmouth, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampire Turning, Vampires, Watchers, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 92,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamburgers/pseuds/grahamburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reboot of my "Of Slayers and Wolves" series, this is canon rewrite of both "Teen Wolf" and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", combining them into a shared universe*. When Buffy Summers moves to Sunnydale from Los Angeles, she quickly finds herself befriending a group of kids already having their own supernatural troubles -- with Scott McCall's newly received lycanthropy.</p><p>*The universe also includes several other fandoms that may or may not get their own series as well, but some details will trickle in here and there!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolf Moon

Scott McCall pushed the front door slowly open with his foot, both hands tightly gripping a baseball bat. Even as he crept out onto the house’s front porch, he could hear the creaking sounds. They sounded like they were on the roof above him. “Who’s there?” he called out. Nervous didn’t begin to describe his current feeling.

And then the creaking changed into a clatter. Scott shouted and leapt back from the edge of the porch as a body fell – catching on a branch from the nearby tree and simply dangling. It was silhouetted by the moon but he could just barely make out…

“Stiles!” he exclaimed, finally lowering the bat, “What the hell?”

“Answer your phone!” Stiles Stilinski retorted, his voice full of frustration, “And why do you have a bat?” As outraged as he was, he knew there was no hope of being taken seriously so long as he was hanging upside down from a tree.

“I’m glad it wasn’t an axe murderer,” Scott exhaled, “Why were you calling?”

“I think you need to prune this,” Stiles said absently, “I mean, this branch is basically on the roof. That can’t be good for it.”

Scott was used to Stiles’ easily distracted mind – it wasn’t unusual to have to ask a question two or three times before Stiles would even pick up on it. They’d been best friends most of their lives at this point, it was just one quirk of that he’d learned to live with. “Why were you calling?”

“Oh!” Stiles exclaimed, waving his arms in his excitement, “My dad got a call tonight, right? Joggers found a body in the woods—“ His wild gesticulations took their toll on the branch he hung from and it snapped. Midsentence, Stiles and branch fell into the bushes below.

Scott took advantage of the interruption. “It’s Sunnydale, it seems like there’s always a dead body in the woods,” he pointed out, “Especially lately.”

“Half a body!” Stiles interjected.

“Which half?” Scott asked before he could stop himself.

Stiles paused. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You’re a little sick. Isn’t this more up Jesse’s alley than mine? Can’t you call him?”

“Hanging out with Willow,” Stiles replied sullenly.  Scott had always been amazed at how Stiles could swap from crying to laughing, from exuberant to disappointed, in nothing flat. It wasn’t that any of Stiles’ feelings were false, it was just the speed at which Stiles’ mind worked.

“I need to get a good night’s sleep,” Scott insisted, though he could feel his resistance failing, “Lacrosse tomorrow.”

Stiles shook his head. “Warming the bench isn’t exactly something you need to be well-rested for. I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna strain yourself.”

“I’m making first line this year!”

“Scott, you’re a severe asthmatic,” Stiles pointed out gently, “I guess they’d probably let you play on the basketball team but at the same time, the basketball team can’t get any worse. The lacrosse team is the only team at our school that wins. Ever.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “That’s exactly the kind of ego boost I needed. Let me get my inhaler and we’ll go.”

* * *

Stiles had been kind enough to let Scott change clothes when he went back into the house to grab his inhaler. After that, however, the pressure was on. He’d rushed Scott back outside and into his Jeep and they sped off for the Sunnydale Nature Preserve.

“So dad brought the entire department and dogs – and some state police – in to look for the half the body the joggers didn’t find,” Stiles explained as he shoved open the Jeep’s driver-side door and slid to the leaf-strewn ground below.

“Which half did the joggers find?” Scott wondered, closing the passenger-side door behind him and checking the pockets of his zip-up hoodie to make sure his inhaler hadn’t fallen out during the ride.

Stiles shrugs. “Didn’t ask.”

“And what are we going to do if we find it?” Scott pressed on.

“I didn’t think that part through,” Stiles admitted.

“Planned with the attention to detail that’s made you so famous,” Scott teased.

Stiles flicked on the flashlight he’d brought and the two trudged into the woods. The Nature Reserve was a fairly large wooded area on the edge of town, and in truth there was not much hope they’d find the body at all. The intrepid duo made their way deeper into the woods, largely silently – which was an impressive feat for Stiles – keeping their eyes peeled for anything.

It wasn’t too long, however, before Scott started gasping for air. He fished his inhaler out of his pocket and shook it, trying to keep any eye on Stiles who was ascending a hill just ahead. Calmly, Scott breathed in a puff of medication from his inhaler. Scott had been using the inhaler for most of his life now but he was still just a little impressed with how quickly it began to take effect every time he used it. Just one more puff and he should be fine…

And that’s when the light flickered across the top of the hill. Stiles dropped to the ground – someone else was here. A dog began barking. It was not any real surprise that they’d run into the cops, they were supposed to be swarming the woods. Scott scurried to the other side of a tree, peeking out to keep an eye on Stiles.

Stiles was not so fortunate. “Who’s there?” a cop shouted, racing between the trees to get to Stiles’ “hiding spot” on the ground.

“It’s… nobody,” Stiles stammered, “Nope. Nobody here.”

“Is that…” The cop stopped, his flashlight shining directly at Stiles’ head. “Sheriff Stilinski! I found your kid…”

A voice rang out from somewhere else in the woods. “My kid?” It was almost as if the Sheriff suddenly developed superhuman speed, he appeared next to the other cop so quickly. “Yeah, that is. That is my delinquent. Get up Stiles.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles needed no second bidding and was back up on his feet in a flash. He had learned long ago that when his dad used his “Sheriff’s voice” there was no arguing with him.

“What are you doing here?” Sheriff Stilinski demanded.

“Just, uh, strolling,” Stiles managed, “In the woods. At night.”

The Sheriff shined his flashlight straight at Stiles’ face, like an interrogator. “And your partners-in-crime?”

“It’s just me,” Stiles shrugged, “Uhm, Willow had a study thing with everyone tonight. But all my homework’s done!” Not a total lie. Well, no, the homework thing was. But what kind of teacher gave homework over winter break anyways?

The Sheriff had a knack for detecting lies – especially from his son. He shined his flashlight out into the trees. “Scott? Jesse? You can come out now!”

Scott pressed himself against the tree even more. He definitely did not want Stiles to get into any more trouble for having lied – and since Stiles was lying largely to protect Scott from his mother’s wrath, it was a fair trade.

“Get into the car,” Sheriff Stilinski ordered Stiles, “I’m driving you home.”

“Uhm, I drove…” Stiles objected loudly before being led hastily out of Scott’s hearing range.

The Sheriff shook his head. “I’ll drop you off at the Jeep – then I’m following you home. And we need to talk about your habit of listening in on my calls.”

“I don’t listen to the boring ones,” Stiles protested.

Scott was left with exactly one option – get back to the Jeep. It was a safe assumption that the Sheriff would deposit Stiles at the vehicle and then they’d drive back home. Scott just needed to be hidden inside the Jeep before they got there. He was sure they hadn’t been in the woods for very long…

A howl sounded somewhere in the distance. _Because this situation wasn’t freaking me out enough,_ Scott thought ruefully.

* * *

But after about fifteen minutes of walking, Scott was fairly sure he was lost. There was no way they’d been in the woods for that long – had they? And even if they had, he was sure Stiles would have made it to the Jeep by now. It was a long walk home – though he was sure he could make it if he could find his way out of the woods. Even the idea of the lengthy walk made his chest tighten. Almost robotically, Scott whipped out his inhaler and took a puff.

Before he could even put it away, he was pulled out of his thoughts by what sounded like…. Like a stampede? He spun on his heel just in time to see it – a large group of deer thundering towards him. He tried to throw himself out of the way but just managed to find himself pushed up against the roots of a massive tree stump, the deer racing past much more closely than he was comfortable with. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what would happen if one of the deer’s hooves landed on him. And certainly not to think about what would happen if they landed on his head. It was a losing battle with his own brain, which couldn’t seem to stop replacing the sound of the hooves meeting the ground with the sound of hooves meeting his own flesh.

But despite it all the deer passed and Scott was unscathed. Shakily, he rose to his feet and brushed himself off, gasping for air. Where had his inhaler gone? In the darkness he certainly couldn’t find it – he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and opened the flashlight app.  The pale circle of light that appeared on the ground wasn’t much but it would help. He turned, staring hard at the ground for the missing medication. There was no sign of it, so he stepped on the other side of the tree that had broken his fall. A few more steps, turning here and there to get as much of the ground covered as he could.

And then five perfectly manicured fingernails flashed in the light. Scott stopped, lifted the phone to reveal more of the ground…

A woman – or rather, half of a woman – lay face-first in the dirt mere feet from where Scott himself had thrown himself to the ground. “Holy cra—“ he shouted, practically jumping backwards.

He hadn’t noticed the hill behind him, and certainly hadn’t accounted for how steep it was. Though he tried, the fallen leaves covering the ground kept him from catching his balance. With some kind of luck – probably the only luck he’d had all night – he managed not to hit his head on the way down, landing flat on his stomach at the bottom of the hill. “Can’t I catch a break?” Scott groaned to no one in particular, pushing himself up onto his feet.

The question was met with a low growl. Scott turned to see the source – a pair of glowing eyes and some sort of massive, four-legged creature in the shadows. Was that a wolf?

There was no time to consider – the thing leapt into the air. Scott tried to scramble out of the way, back up the hill, but before he’d even gotten a matter of inches, he could feel the beast’s teeth sink into his side and pull him back to the ground. He screamed. The pain was unbearable and his terror was even worse. And there was no one who knew he was here, no one who would be able to help him in time.

But then the beast was gone. Why it went, where it went… it was impossible to say. Scott slowly rose onto his feet. His side felt like a hundred knives had been stabbed into it – not actually that far from what had actually happened, he realized. He had to get out of these woods. Fast.

It actually did not take long for him to find the road, and not too far from where Stiles had parked. Once he’d passed the parking area for the Nature Reserve and seen that it was, in fact, empty, he resigned himself to the long walk home. First, though, he had to be sure he wasn’t about to bleed to death. He lifted his torn hoodie and examined his side… the bite marks looked pretty deep, but in truth the wound didn’t appear to be bleeding too much. It was hard to tell in the light of the moon.

When he finally did make it home, he slathered antibacterial ointment over the wound, put a large bandage over it, and promptly passed out in his bed.

* * *

“You’re home late.”

Buffy groaned. “I just went for a walk, dad.”

“A lot on your mind?” her father asked, patting the coach next to him. The coach – usually long enough to fit three people – was mostly taken up by a pile of pillows and folded blankets. Anyone who walked in could immediately tell someone was sleeping there regularly – but the troubles in the Summers family went so much deeper than that. “Come talk to me.”

“No,” Buffy said shortly, “I’m going to bed.”

“This isn’t because of you,” he called behind her as she ascended the steps. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

Buffy noted the light seeping out from under the door of her parents’ – well, her mother’s – bedroom. With slight trepidation she stepped over to the door and tapped on it with her fingertips.

No answer.

“Good night, mom,” she said into the crack of the door.

No answer.

Buffy walked down the hallway – really only a few steps in this cramped little “family-sized apartment” and went into her own bedroom. She flipped the switch and the light on the ceiling flickered alive.

Instantly she collapsed on her bed – not even bothering to change out of her clothes. In the past six months she’d lost… everything: her friends; her boyfriend; her school; her future; her next boyfriend, and now even her family was falling apart. How was any girl supposed to handle all of this?

* * *

Scott hastily locked his bike to the bike rack. He felt like his alarm had gone off mere minutes after he’d gone to sleep, but somehow he was still feeling well rested and surprisingly upbeat given the number of times he’d almost died the night before.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t _actually_ died. Even his side wasn’t even hurting too badly. All in all that was pretty good.

A silver Porsche slid into the space next to his bike. The only thing that could possibly ruin his mood had arrived – Jackson Whittemore. He was the most popular asshole in the sophomore class – possibly in all of Sunnydale High. For whatever reason, Scott had quickly made his way to the top of Jackson’s shit list.

“Watch the paint,” Jackson sneered, throwing open the door of his convertible so roughly that it nearly hit the bike rack.

Scott sneered back, but by the time a comeback was even beginning to formulate in his mind, Jackson had headed towards the school doors. Scott sighed inwardly, and trudged up towards the school. He and his friends usually gathered in the quad before school began when the weather was nice. He was surprised to find the gang – with the exception of Willow –gathered by a stone bench near the entrance of the school instead.

“There you are!” Stiles exclaimed, leaping to his feet at the sight of Scott, “What happened to you?”

“A lot,” Scott answered simply, “You go first.”

Stiles looked as though he was going to protest, but launched into his story after only a minute’s hesitation. “Dad dropped me off at home, but I went back as soon as he left. I hung out there until I saw flashlights headed in my direction, then I took off. Your turn.”

“I got bit by an animal,” Scott announced, “I think it was a wolf.”

“It wasn’t a wolf,” Jesse interrupted, obviously holding in a laugh.

“It looked like a wolf,” Scott insisted.

“There hasn’t been a wolf in California in like, decades,” Jesse replied, “It wasn’t a wolf.”

“Like sixty years,” Stiles agreed.

“You just know that?” Xander wondered aloud, “I mean, without even thinking about it. You just know that.”

Stiles shrugged, but Scott cut him off before he could say anything else. “Look, I know what I saw.”

“It was not a wolf,” Stiles shook his head, “It was dark out, could have been anything.”

“Guess you won’t believe me when I tell you I found half of the body either,” Scott’s smugness was virtually palpable.

All three of his friends reacted in almost the same, predictable way. “No way!” Xander exclaimed, voicing their excitement, “Which half?”

“The, uh, her top half,” Scott answered. Visualizing the discovery sent a shiver down his spine.

“Who was she?” Jesse asked, “Did you recognize her?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, “But I wasn’t really paying too close attention. There was, you know, a—“

“Wolf,” the other three finished in unison, all appearing sceptical.

The sound of stilettos striking the pavement brought a welcome change of subject. “Stiles, look! It’s the love of your life, Lydia Martin!” Jesse teased.

Stiles spun on his heel – corpse and wolf utterly forgotten. Sure enough, with long flowing strawberry blonde locks bouncing around her shoulders, Lydia Martin strut confidently down the cement walkway towards the school entrance. Even as she went, several other girls fell in step behind her. Lydia wasn’t quite “Queen B” of the popular sophomore girls, but whenever Cordelia Chase wasn’t around the Cordettes – as they were called – flocked to Lydia.

“Have you seen Cordy’s new hair?” a blonde girl, Harmony Kendall, was asking as Lydia approached, “So gorgeous.”

“Still haven’t seen it since you asked me yesterday,” Lydia replied dully, “How about I just let you know when I’ve had the pleasure?”

“Hey Lydia,” Stiles stammered as the girls drew near, “You look…like you’re gonna ignore me.”

Indeed, Lydia breezed past, and Stiles was swept to the side as the girls pushed their way to the door.

Stiles shot a scathing look at the others of his group – as though it was his association with them that prevented him from being on Lydia’s rader.

“She’s dating Jackson,” Jesse pointed out, “You can’t compete.”

“I could if I weren’t a nerd by association,” Stiles frowned.

“Sorry, who knows how long it’s been since a wolf’s been in California of the top of his head?” Xander grinned.

Stiles’ expression didn’t change, even though he’d clearly lost the battle. “Whatever, let’s go find Willow.”

* * *

They found Willow, as they expected, in the Quad. “Did you see the new librarian?” she asked excitedly as soon as she saw them, “He brought in all these old books this morning! I have to spend some time in the library, I have to find out what they all are!”

“Of course you do, Will,” Xander chuckled.

“Maybe you can do some animal research while you’re there,” Stiles suggested, “Scott thinks he got bit by a wolf last night.”

Willow’s enthusiasm was – partially – diminished by her sudden concern for Scott. “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”

“It’s not so bad,” Scott shook his head, “Not as bad as it looked last night. Still, scared the heck out of me.”

“I bet!” Willow nodded her standard empathetic nod, “Well, get it looked at after school, okay? Animal bites can get nasty.”

Scott was saved from offering any promises by the bell ringing for class. Willow didn’t wait a moment to start rushing off to class – the first day back was her favorite for reasons none of the rest of them could quite understand.

* * *

Mr. Curtis’ English class was renowned for being deathly boring. Not only was it dull, he was strict and seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. No one could get away with anything in his class – texting, passing notes, even doodling instead of taking notes was taking a serious chance.

“Kafka’s _Metamorphosis_ ,” Mr. Curtis droned, scribbling the title on the blackboard in an almost illegible handwriting, “Who’s read it?” Predictably, no hands were raised. He didn’t even turn to look before continuing. “Over the next two weeks we’ll be examining the themes present in this classic work. The absurdity of life…”

A deafening ring hit Scott’s ears. Someone’s cell phone. He turned his gaze up – surely that would stop Mr. Curtis in his tracks, but the teacher didn’t seem to be hear it. Glancing around the room revealed that no one else was reacting either. How could anyone not hear that noise?

“Mom, really, this is kind of excessive,” a girl’s voice spoke as the ringing came to a sudden stop. But there was no girl on the phone in the classroom. Scott kept looking around, trying to find a source for the noise.

“I forgot a pen, which was dumb, but I am sure I’ll be fine,” the girl’s voice went on. And then Scott saw her – out the window. Sitting in the Quad. She was stunning – somehow beyond beautiful, with wavy dark hair and a smile that seemed to reflect the sun itself. Principal Flutie was walking towards her at a somewhat urgent pace.

Scott clapped his hands over his ears. As much as he didn’t want to listen to Mr. Curtis – and he didn’t – he also didn’t want to eavesdrop on a conversation happening in the quad a million miles away. Unfortunately, that drew Mr. Curtis’ attention – and ire. “Mr. McCall, do you have something to add?” he demanded, finally turning to face the class.

Scott could hear him through his hands. “Nope,” he stammered, trying to feign innocence, “Just had a… buzzing. I’m fine.” He glanced out the window again but observed the girl and Principal Flutie had gone.

* * *

“I want to apologize for the wait, Miss Argent,” Principal Flutie said cordially as he led Allison into the school building, “I know it doesn’t make a great first impression on a new student, transferring in but… First day back from Chris—I mean, winter break, of course the students are all very excited.”

Allison had fallen in step behind the Principal as soon as he’d introduced himself. She was not particularly pleased to be here – at yet another new school in yet another new town. Moving around so much was uncomfortable at best, but her parents seemed to love it. They made friends everywhere – Allison did not find things so easy.

Flutie was leading her to her first class himself, which was very nice of him but he seemed to trying just a little too hard to be friendly. “I am sure that you’ll be able to get someone to help you find your next class,” he went on, “We’re a community here. Givers, helpers – that’s what Sunnydale is all about. I’m sure you’ll fit in great.”

“How far is it to my class?” Allison asked – the words emerging from her mouth before she could stop them. Frantically she attempted to cover for herself. “You know, just because I don’t want to miss too much.”

“Already thinking of your academics!” Principal Flutie exclaimed proudly, “That’s what it’s all about here at Sunnydale. Learning. And giving and helping. But also learning. You’ll be fine.” He stopped next to a door and inhaled sharply through his nose. “You ready?” he asked, as though he was overcome with anticipation.

Allison raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Principal Flutie pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Mr. Curtis! So sorry to interrupt but we have a new student today!”

Allison noted the look of total displeasure that washed across Mr. Curtis’ face at the interruption. “Go ahead,” he mumbled.

Principal Flutie did not seem to notice Mr. Curtis’ silent objections. “This is Allison Argent, everyone!” he said exuberantly, “I want you all to make her feel at home. I know that you will. This is Sunnydale, show her all your sunny dispositions!”

“Have a seat, Miss Argent,” Mr. Curtis did not even wait for the principal to turn to leave. Allison did not need a second bidding – she’d already scoped out the closest empty seat. It was behind a remarkably cute boy, so that was a bonus.

As soon as she slid into the seat, he handed her a pen. “Thought you might need this,” he said with a smile.

Allison stared at the pen for a minute. “Yeah,” she said hesitantly, “Thanks.” Returning the smile, she took the pen. It was weird that he knew she needed one… but she wasn’t going to turn down a potential new friend just because he guessed she was unprepared.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his smile at her one more time.

Allison thought she might like it here.

* * *

Other than the boy in English, Allison spent the rest of the day with minimal interaction with anyone until she was at her locker before last period. It was at that point that a finger jabbed into her shoulder.

“Where did you get that jacket?” a girl’s voice demanded.

Allison turned and found a strawberry blonde, extremely fashionably dressed girl standing before her, just a head shorter than Allison. “Uh, my mom worked as a buyer for this boutique in San Francisco,” Allison explained, “It’s a nice job cause she can do it while we move around.”

“I knew you were new here,” the girl replied, “Don’t worry. I'm Lydia, and with connections like that, you’re my new best friend! Listen… most nights we all hang out at the Bronze, but this Friday I’m having a party at my house after the scrimmage. Everyone will be there!”

Allison was not sure she was ready for an “everyone” kind of party yet – she hadn’t even finished unpacking her room. She had no idea how long her family intended to stay in Sunnydale, for all she knew she’d be gone by Friday. “Friday night is family night.”

“That’s too bad,” another voice chimed in. Lydia smiled, as the boy who arrived slid his arm around her waist. “Everyone who is anyone at this school will be going right after the scrimmage.”

“Football?” Allison wondered, “Isn’t it kind of late in the year?”

“Lacrosse,” he corrected, “This school is all about lacrosse. It’s our only winning team.”

“Thanks to Jackson,” Lydia cooed proudly, running her fingertips affectionately along his cheek. “If you can get out of family night, you should come.”

Allison nodded – though her eyes had strayed from her conversation partners. The boy from English class was watching her.

“At least come watch practice right now,” Lydia urged, grinning excitedly.

* * *

“So, she’s been here like five minutes and she’s hanging out with the Cordettes?” Willow sighed.

“Hot girls flock together,” Jesse observed.

“No one warned her that they’re evil before she got here,” Xander added. The three of them looked expectantly towards Scott, but he seemed totally distracted.

“Scott?”

“Right,” he said finally, snapping out of it. He couldn’t explain how but he had definitely just listened to Allison’s entire conversation even standing down the crowded hallway from her. “Hot girls. Yeah, that’s it.”

None of his friends noticed his distracted state. Willow even provided a convenient change of topic. “Xander, have you seen Amy today? She was acting really weird in Bio.”

“To be honest, I’d be acting a little weird if I’d just spent two weeks stuck in a house with Amy’s mom,” Xander replied, “I’m sure she’ll be back to her usual amount of weird soon.”

* * *

Stiles gave Scott his best “sad puppy dog” face. “But if you play, I won’t have anyone to talk to on the bench,” he whined, “Besides. Your asthma?”

“I lost my inhaler last night,” Scott shrugged, “And I’ve been fine all day.”

“You also haven’t played lacrosse all day,” Stiles countered, sinking onto the metal bench.

The conversation had hardly finished when Coach Finstock approached. “McCall! Listen, we need to build up everyone’s confidence so you’re in the goal!”

“I’m what?” Scott choked, “But… Danny’s the goalie!”

“Danny’s good. Really good,” the coach replied, “That’s not what I’m looking for right now. I’m looking for pretty much useless.”

“Thanks Coach,” Scott groaned.

* * *

As usual, the bleachers were not even nearly empty. The lacrosse team – as the best team at school – had become such a matter of interest that even their practices were flocked to by the student body. Xander and Jesse, firmly committed to as un-athletic lifestyle as possible, were at least willing to watch their friends Stiles and Scott at practice – sitting at practice, typically. Sometimes Willow would join them in the bleachers, but today she was preoccupied with meeting the new librarian.

They were not particularly surprised to see Cordelia Chase lead a contingency of Cordettes up to the last row of the bleachers – nor were they surprised to see Lydia and the new girl arrive a few minutes later.

They were surprised to see Scott started walking towards the goal.

“Is he playing?” Jesse gasped, “They never put him on the field!”

“Who is that?” they heard the new girl ask.

Lydia shrugged. “McCall… uh, Sam, maybe? Or Scooter?”

Xander rolled his eyes. Who knew “Scott” was such a hard name to remember?

The coach blew his whistle – and Scott collapsed to the ground, hands clutching the sides of his helmet.

* * *

The sound of the whistle was so loud it seemed to echo inside his head. Scott dropped his lacrosse stick and dropped to the ground. Even as the sound faded, he found he was frozen in place.

One of the lacrosse players lined up to take a shot at the goal saw a golden opportunity – racing towards Scott and easily scoring. The team cheered. Scott groaned, pushing himself back up to standing and taking a hold of his lacrosse stick again. He was not going to allow that to happen again.

Isaac Lahey was charging towards him now – although he should have been picking up some speed he seemed to be slowing down. And when he threw the ball with his lacrosse stick it was like… like slow motion. Scott cocked his head to the side and watched the ball arc through the air towards him, and then easily caught it in the net of his own lacrosse stick.

Cheers erupted again – this time from Xander and Jesse on the bleachers and from Stiles on the bench. One catch wasn’t too impressive for most of the onlookers, though. They clapped with a bored enthusiasm.

Next, though, Boyd charged towards Scott. Vernon Boyd IV was his full name, actually – Scott reflected that even at the slow motion speed he was charging at he seemed somehow too brutal for such a dignified name. Boyd hurled the ball from his stick like he meant to kill with it – and yet the ball still moved so slowly that Scott caught it with a casual motion from his own stick.

Now even the Cordettes were impressed. “His name is Scott!” he could hear Lydia announce to Allison over the applause, like she’d suddenly remembered.

Not everyone was happy about Scott’s sudden success. Jackson pushed his way to the front of the line and started racing towards the goal without waiting for the coach’s say so – no faster than the others had seemed to go but every single part of his body seemed to radiate rage. Once the ball had left Jackson’s lacrosse stick, however, it too seemed to drift across what was left of the field into Scott’s own net.

The bleachers erupted into an overwhelming level of cheering. Jackson, however, was anything but pleased. He stalked off the field, tossing his lacrosse stick to the ground.

Scott couldn’t help but grin.

* * *

“Slow motion?” Stiles blinked, stopping in his tracks. Tracks was a relative term, of course. They were back in the Sunnydale Nature Preserve. Scott was insistent on finding his inhaler and Stiles… well, Stiles and Jesse wanted to find the body. They’d asked Xander if he wanted to come, but he had gone to find Willow in the library.

Scott nodded – though it was hard to tell between being behind him and the hood over his head. “Yeah,” he went on, “And… like, I can smell things and hear things that I absolutely shouldn’t be able to.”

“Oh, like what?” This was all ridiculous. Usually Stiles was the one making things more dramatic – or Jesse. Scott was clearly trying to move in on their turf here.

“You have really old mint mojito gum in your pocket,” Scott answered.

Stiles snorted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. He hadn’t bought mint mojito gum since like November. Now he was into that Trident Layers stuff. Two flavors at once was really soothing for his A.D.D. “The only gum I have is…” he announced, withdrawing his hands, clutching the pack. It was green. It was… “…what the hell, man?”

“It must be like… adrenaline filling my body as I go into shock,” Scott said, “That can happen right?”

“You’re the one who works with a vet, shouldn’t you know?” Jesse chimed in.

Scott groaned. “We have to find my inhaler fast, I have to close the office tonight.”

And so the three of them set off again, at a slightly more determined pace. “I think I know what’s happening,” Stiles announced in his most serious tone of voice, “But don’t worry. It will only be a problem on a full moon. It’s called lycanthropy.”

He exchanged a knowing glance with Jesse. Scott, he realized, was too freaked out right now to find the humor in the joke.

“What is that?” Scott asked nervously, “Like, should I go to the hospital? Are there specialists?”

“Hospital can’t help you,” Stiles went on as Jesse rolled his eyes, “But you can feel better if you howl at the moon.”

“You’re an ass,” Scott mumbled. Jesse, at least, chuckled a bit.

The trio walked further into the woods in complete silence until Scott finally stopped them. “This is the spot,” he announced, “I’m sure of it.”

“You know, from the way you described where the body was I kind of expected there to be a body here,” Jesse snarked.

“Someone must have moved it,” Scott shrugged, “Help me find my…” He trailed off, and as he did Stiles and Jesse turned their eyes to whatever had caught Scott’s attention.

A man. In dark clothes, a leather jacket, with scruff across his chin. He looked very familiar. “You’re trespassing,” he said gruffly.

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, “Sorry. We’re looking for…”

The man pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Scott. “This?”

Scott caught it and held it up. His inhaler. “Yeah. This.”

“Now you can go.” And the man turned and stalked away through the trees.

Obediently, the three friends started back tracking through the woods. Suddenly, Stiles could put a name with the face. “Derek Hale!” he exclaimed.

“Who?” Scott asked.

“You guys have got to remember this,” Stiles was appalled that this wasn’t ringing bells with anyone else. “He was only a few years older than us. Their house burned down, killed like a whole bunch of people?”

“Try to remember you’re the only one here whose dad is in law enforcement, would you?” Jesse groaned, “None of us actively follow this dead body stuff. We just like to support your dead-body-hunting hobbies.”

“Whatever,” Stiles retorted, “It was like a huge deal. Almost the whole family died? None of this is ringing a bell, seriously?”

Jesse and Scott just stared at him blankly.

“Yeah,” Scott finally said, “I gotta get to work.”

* * *

The front stoop wasn’t what Buffy would have considered the safest place to hang out – actually, anywhere outside after about five pm was pushing it for her latest definitions of safety. The streets of Los Angeles were… unpredictable at the best of time.

But on the other hand, it sure beat being inside right at that moment. Her mother and father were having another of their “intense discussions” as they liked to call them. Dawn and Buffy had cleared out as soon as it had begun.

They were sitting pretty quietly until… “This is your fault, Buffy,” Dawn said out of the blue.

“Excuse me?” Buffy snapped, “No, it isn’t.”

Dawn was not swayed so easily. “Yes, it is. They started fighting when you started getting in trouble.”

Buffy sighed. “Look, Dawnie, there’s a lot of things going on right now. Not just for me but for mom and dad. And they don’t all have to do with me getting in trouble.”

No. Some of them had to do with their father’s illicit and not-so-well-hidden affair. But no one, least of all Buffy, wanted Dawn to know about that. Things were hard enough for her.

“Like what?”

“Like…” Buffy really couldn’t think of a plausible lie. That was new.

“I’m going for a walk,” Dawn announced, standing and stomping down the stairs before Buffy had a chance to disagree.

“It’s after dark, Dawn, you really don’t want—“

“You don’t know what I want!” Dawn shouted back.

Buffy stood and headed after her sister. “You’ll get in trouble!”

“We both will!”

“Fine!” Buffy finally gave in. “I’m coming with you though!”

* * *

The door latched with a satisfying “click”! The vet’s office had been especially dull. Doctor Deaton had left a good two hours earlier, but Scott remained behind to answer phone calls. Of which there had been exactly none.

Mentally creating a prioritized to-do list, Scott marched dutifully into the bathroom and lifted up his shirt. The bandage over his bite was still stained with blood – at the very least it was time to change it. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the bandage off as quickly as he could.

The skin beneath it was utterly unblemished. It was as if there had never been a bite of any kind. Scott stared at it for a moment… but he had work to do. The cats needed to be tended to, the dogs needed to be tended to. Work didn’t stop just because he was mysteriously not going to die – maybe.

It only took a few minutes to get a fresh bag of dry cat food out of storage and haul it into the room the cats that were staying overnight were kept in. As soon as he opened the door, however, an overwhelming racket greeted him – the cats began hissing and yowling as soon as they caught sight of him. They scratched violently at the doors at their cages.

“Maybe I’ll come back?” Scott offered, slowly backing out of the room again. The cats just continued hissing at him.

He’d barely left the room when a frantic pounding on the door reached him. Scott shook his head – some customers didn’t seem to understand that the world doesn’t alter itself to fit their schedule. Nevertheless, he went to the door and pulled it open.

Allison Argent, thoroughly soaked, stood before him, visibly upset. “I know it’s late,” he said tearfully, “But I hit a dog. I was just changing the song on my iPod – I should have been watching but…”

“It’s okay,” Scott interrupted, “Where’s the dog?”

Allison jabbed her thumb behind her to the SUV she had been driving. “In the back. It was all I could do to get her in there, she was growling at me.”

“Probably just scared.” Scott stepped out into the rain and followed Allison to her vehicle. Allison lifted open the back door, the dog inside growled. To both of their surprise, however, it stopped at the sight of Scott. He easily lifted the dog in his arms and carried it back inside, Allison tailing nervously behind him.

After she had shut the door, Scott led her into the examining room and spent a short while looking the dog over. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a broken leg,” he finally announced, “I can make a splint and we can keep her kennelled here until someone comes looking for her.”

“Oh, thank God,” Allison sighed in relief. She was shivering, Scott noticed as he looked up at her.

“I have some clothes in my bag if you want to borrow them.” He motioned to the backpack tossed carelessly in the corner of the room.

She smiled, and the room itself seemed to light up. The dog whined, almost sympathetically, as Scott’s heart rate felt like it tripled.

* * *

“I think we need to go home now, Dawn,” Buffy said warningly, but her younger sister was not slowing down.

“No.” Dawn was maybe the most stubborn one in the family – which was really saying something. “I don’t want to go back there if mom and dad are going to keep fighting and nobody will tell me why.”

“Fine,” Buffy relented, “I will tell you when we get home. Now let’s go. It’s dark out.”

“You never used to be scared of the dark,” Dawn whined.

Buffy nodded grimly. “Well, I've learned some things about the dark, okay? And I know what I'm talking about. Let's go home."

* * *

Scott had tried not to watch Allison change through the window of the door she’d gone through – he really did. She’d kept her back turned, and even so all he could make out was a shoulder. Unfortunately, he was a teenager and he had little resistance to his hormones. Despite the distraction, he did manage to splint the leg.

He tried his best to play it cool once she had emerged into the examining room – but she decided to stand inches to his right to take a look at the dog. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, “You can pet her if you want.”

She reached out to touch the dog – drawing nearer to Scott as she did. She smiled again and there went Scott again.

“You, uh, you have an eyelash on your cheek,” Scott stammered.

Allison tried to brush her cheek, but her fingers were caught up in the sleeve of Scott’s shirt. It was noticeably too big for her, but somehow it still looked better on her than it did on him.

“Let me,” Scott whispered, gently reaching out and brushing the offending lash away with his thumb. A charged silence fell between them. Scott wondered if she felt the tension too.

“I, uh, I have to, uhm, go,” she finally managed.

Yeah. She felt it. “Let me walk you out,” he offered. They both walked out of the examining room, through the waiting area, and into the drenched parking lot outside.

She pulled open the driver’s door of the SUV, then turned and smiled at Scott. “Thanks.”

“So, you have a family night on Friday?” Scott blurted out.

“No, that was a lie. How did you even…” Allison stared at Scott quizzically.

“Would you… do you want to go to Lydia’s party with me?”

Allison smiled. “Sure.”

The smile on Scott’s face lasted well after he made it home – until he fell asleep in his bed.

* * *

The smile disappeared the instant he woke up – in the middle of the woods, wearing nothing but a pair of grey gym shorts. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could move in a groggy, half-awake state.

A growling sound behind him snapped him fully into consciousness. The woods were thick with morning mist but he could see something moving towards him. Red eyes glowed in the grey fog.

He couldn’t tell what the creature was, but Scott was certain that was the thing that had bit him.

He turned and started running as quickly as he could away from the creature, not even watching where he was going. He didn’t know how long or how far he’d run but finally a privacy fence rose into view. Scott took a running jump, leaping over the top of the fence and landing with a massive splash in the pool on the other side.

“Scott?” a voice asked, as he rose to the surface of the water.

Scott turned in the water and paled as his eyes fell upon the girl who stood staring at him from the backdoor of her home. “Oh,” he stammered, “Good morning Cordelia.”

* * *

The next two days were brutal. Cordelia made sure anyone who would listen heard about Scott appearing in her pool. When he explained himself to his friends, Stiles immediately became convinced something was wrong with Scott and became determined to find out. “Some sort of animal bite disease!” he had theorized.

But then, Scott had gone to lacrosse practice. Coach Finstock hadn’t put him in the goal, but he had been very sure to make sure Scott played. And Scott was – inexplicably – great. It put a stop to the treatment he was getting from the Cordettes, and most of the team was excited. Stiles seemed concerned and Jackson…

Jackson cornered Scott in the locker room after practice. “Where are you getting your juice?” he demanded.

“My… what?” Scott stammered, noticing that Jackson’s fist was pressed into the locker a little too close to his head.

“Where are you getting your juice?”

Scott crinkled his forehead in confusion. “My mom does all the grocery shopping?”

Jackson lifted his fist and slammed into the locker again – definitely too close to Scott’s head. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, McCall, but no one gets this good at lacrosse overnight. I am going to find out what’s up.”

“Could you let me know when you do?” Scott snapped, suddenly fed up. “I can do things I’ve never been able to do before, I can hear things I shouldn’t be able to hear, I can smell things nobody should be able to smell, and I woke up in the middle of the freaking woods! I’ve got literally no idea what’s happening to me. So, please, find out. And tell me all about it.” He shoved Jackson off of him and left the locker room as quickly as he could without breaking into a run.

Stiles was waiting outside. “I have got to tell you something.”

“Really? Now?” Scott rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it, he just wanted to get home.

“They found wolf hair on the half of the body the cops found,” Stiles reported, “So, you were right. We were wrong.”

“How did you even find that out?”

“Well, the police scanner I stole and put in my Jeep, of course,” Stiles’s facial expression was appalled, as if Scott had just asked the most nonsensical question imaginable.

“Nice job today,” Allison’s voice cut in, as she appeared behind Stiles, “Lydia says she’s never seen you play that well before.”

“Eh, I had a good day,” Scott answered blushing. Stiles rolled his eyes and departed without saying anything.

“We’re still on for Friday?” Allison asked, smiling broadly.

Scott’s heart skipped a beat before heading into a very excited overdrive. “If you still want to go after, y’know…”

“I don’t care about rumors, Scott,” Allison shrugged, “I definitely want to go.”

* * *

Stiles pushed open the doors to the library. He wasn’t surprised to see Willow there, but the fact that Jesse was casually lounging on a table – with a book in hand – was a little shocking. Xander was there as well, sitting at a computer clicking furiously at whatever game he’d found on the Internet.

“Stiles!” Willow exclaimed, looking up from her own book, “I’m glad you finally came to check it out. Mr. Giles brought so many amazing new books!”

“I’m thrilled, really,” Stiles nodded fervently despite his sarcasm, “But I’m actually looking for something in particular.”

“And what would that be?” a heavily accented voice asked. This new librarian was clearly straight off the boat from England.

Stiles scratched his ear, a little nervous. “Something weird is happening to my friend. I’m thinking there’s got to be some kind of rare disease or something. I just want to look up his symptoms, see if I can find anything.”

“What symptoms would those be? Perhaps I can help.”

Stiles turned to look at this… Mr. Giles. He was clad in tweed, with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He even looked like a stuffy British guy. Still, medicine was not Stiles’ area of expertise. He was going to need some help. “Uhm, he got bit by an animal last weekend and since then he’s been…. Weird.”

“How descriptive,” Mr. Giles commented dryly, “Could you give me a tad bit more to work with?”

Stiles nodded and went on, “Well, he’s asthmatic but he hasn’t used his inhaler all week, even though he’s suddenly kicking ass at lacrosse. And he can smell things like gum in my pocket that nobody should be able to smell.”

“And he’s been really sensitive to sound!” Jesse added, “Like everything is too loud.”

Mr. Giles had adopted a very serious expression. For a full minute he didn’t say anything – considering something. Then, he turned and strode into his office. When he finally emerged again, he had a very old book in his hand, which he thrust towards Stiles. “Read this with an open mind,” he instructed carefully, “And bring it back in one piece.”

Stiles stared down at the tome. _Encyclopaedia Lycanthropy_ the cover read, in ornate writing.

* * *

As though things had not changed enough in the Summers’ household recently, that week saw even more changes. Buffy, feeling her hand had been forced, told Dawn all that she knew about the problems between their parents – doing her best to minimize the more unpleasant details like her father’s divorce. It was fortunate that his allowed the two of them to lean on each other – particularly since their parents stopped fighting an entered a period of cold silence towards each other.

Their father had, apparently, determined he would be keeping the house and their mother would be moving out. As a result, he took to sleeping in the bedroom and she took to sleeping on the couch. Dawn had let him know – loudly – exactly how awful she thought that was.

Buffy, for her own part, stopped her nightly strolls altogether. She knew, if things were going to improve for her, she had to let go of that part of her life completely. She also knew that it was going to be impossible to keep Dawn from following her, and she had to keep her sister out of harm’s way as much as possible.

It was because of this that she found herself staring at static on the television screen, sitting on the couch next to her mother Thursday night. After what felt like ages of silence, her mom spoke. “We found a school.”

“What?” Buffy asked.

“We found a school that is willing to take you,” she repeated, “It’s a public school but it’s only about an hour away so you would still be able to see your father.”

“If I want to,” Buffy snipped.

Her mother sighed. “I get that you’re angry, Buffy. But he is your father and he didn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Buffy sighed. “Whatever. Where’s this school?”

“Sunnydale.”

Well, that sounded nice enough.

* * *

The previous two days had been much better than the start of the week. Scott’s superb performance at Wednesday’s practice had managed to make everyone forget about his appearance in Cordelia’s swimming pool – well, everyone except for Cordelia and a few of her chief cohorts. Cordelia was now under the belief that Scott was in love with her and was stalking her – Scott was kind enough not to point out that the only person in his group who had any warm feelings towards her was Jesse. Partly because he wasn’t sure Cordelia even knew who Jesse was. The only other person who seemed to still have it out for him was Jackson.

Scott’s legendary improvements during practice had drawn an even bigger crowd than usual to the scrimmage. The bleachers were nearly as full as they would be for an actual game.

“Okay, losers!” Coach Finstock shouted to the team as they gathered around him, “This scrimmage is going to determine who is first line. So get out there and kick each other’s butts!”

The team, already separated into their two teams for the scrimmage, needed no second bidding. Only a few seconds in, Scott had the ball in his net and was weaving between players. The people in the bleachers were already cheering for him.

Until he was suddenly knocked to the ground. He already knew it was Jackson before he even stood and looked. He was furious, and by the looks of it so was Jackson.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle for play to resume, and Scott scooped the ball into his net before Jackson had a chance to move at all. He charged towards the goal, Jackson racing behind him. Boyd and Greenberg were, similarly, racing towards him – hoping to stop him from reaching the goal. Scott swerved, to find that Isaac was flanking him. He growled – more to himself than anyone – and jumped. His teammates stopped and stared. The people in the bleachers stopped and stared.

Scott didn’t stop. He sailed through the air, flipping forwards over Boyd’s head and landing gracefully on his feet behind him – close enough to the goal to toss the ball at the net. Danny didn’t even try to stop the ball – he just stared.

And then, quite suddenly, the deafening, stunned silence erupted into cheers from the bleachers. “Definitely on the first line!” Coach Finstock shouted.

Scott glanced over at his teammates on the bench. Stiles was not cheering – he was chewing his bottom lip. He turned to look at the bleachers – neither Jesse or Xander were cheering either. Willow, who had turned out to see the legend her friend was becoming, was ecstatic.

At least he had one good friend in the bunch.

* * *

Stiles’ bedroom was trashed. He had printouts of various web pages he’d been looking at. The tome he’d received from the library was sitting next to his laptop on his desk. The laptop itself had open a page about the arcane dangers of wolfsbane.

He jumped a bit when Scott pushed open the door to his room and demanded. “What has gotten into you?”

“Lots of Adderall,” Stiles admitted with a shrug, “Listen. You need to cancel your date tonight.”

“No, but seriously, what has gotten into you?” Scott snapped, “First you’re miserable that I made first line, now you want me to cancel my date?”

“I’m not miserable, I’m worried!” Stiles argued, “Look at all of this. The librarian gave me this book when I told him everything going on with you… it all fits!”

“What fits?”

“You’re a werewolf, Scott,” Stiles went on, barely pausing for Scott’s question, “I’m not kidding this time. And tonight is a full moon. Which is probably why you’re so grouchy.”

“This is ridiculous,” Scott scowled.

Stiles pressed further, “Look, the full moon, and high emotions, and anything that raises your heart rate. Those can all trigger the transformation and an unstoppable bloodlust. Scott, if you go on this date, you’re going to kill her.”

“I could kill somebody right about now,” Scott glared at Stiles. If looks could kill, it wouldn’t have been an idle threat at all.

“If you won’t do it, I will,” Stiles insisted, thrusting his hand forward to grab Scott’s cell phone out of the pocket on the side of his backpack.

Scott moved faster than Stiles ever could. He had Stiles slammed up against a wall, snarling, his fist inches from Stiles’ face. “I am going on this date,” he snarled. As though realizing the position he’d put his best friend in, he spun around and slapped the desk chair. It flew into the air and landed on the floor next to the bed.

His decision made, Scott made it clear the conversation was over by storming out of the room.

Stiles sighed and stepped over to his fallen desk chair. As he lifted it back upright, he caught sight of the damage Scott had done to it. Three massive claw marks torn across the back of the chair.

“Okay, calling for backup now,” Stiles muttered to himself.

* * *

Buffy shot upright in her bed the moment she heard the front door slam shut – the trashy romance novel she’d been reading forgotten at her side. “Mom?” she called out.

There was no immediate answer, so Buffy raced to her window and peered out the glass. It was exactly what she’d been afraid – Dawn was taking off at a run down the street, her mother following after her.

Buffy grabbed her purse and flew down the stairs and out the front door. “Mom, stop,” she shouted, catching up easily, “Let me go after her. I’ll talk to her. You go inside.”

“I just told her about Sunnydale,” her mother explained, “She didn’t take the idea of moving out of town very well.”

“I got this,” Buffy repeated urgently, “Just go back inside.”

It was amazing that her mother didn’t argue. And Buffy took off at a run to catch up to Dawn before she could get too much farther. She’d almost reached her when she caught sight of a man, moving much faster than any ordinary man should be able to move, also heading towards Dawn from across the street.

“Dawn!” Buffy shouted, “Look out!”

The warning came too late, the man – the vampire – tackled Dawn and dragged her into an alley just behind her. Dawn screamed.

Buffy knew, consciously, that she was moving faster than anyone she’d ever met could possibly be moving at that moment. Still, time seemed to have stopped. Each step seemed to take a life time. Even her heart seemed to have halted completely.

As she finally rounded the corner, her eyes fell upon the creature holding Dawn captive. Her hand reached into her handbag, grasping the wooden spike that was tucked inside of it.

His face had taken on the monstrous visage of a vampire about to feed. Buffy had seen the face far too frequently in the past year – fangs emerging from his upper teeth, lumps arising above his eyes. His face was smoother than some of the vampires she’d faced. “You must be new,” Buffy observed, speaking a lot more calmly than she felt.

The vampire hesitated, glaring at Buffy, and then tossing Dawn aside. She shrieked, and pressed herself up against the wall of the alleyway. Her face was streaked with tears.

Buffy, however, had no time to react to Dawn. The vampire lunged for her, she spun out of the way. He pulled back to try again and Buffy took the opening he provided, slamming the wooden stake into his chest. He stayed still for a moment before exploding in a shower of ash and dust.

The danger avoided, Buffy rushed to Dawn’s side, gathering her little sister into a huge hug. “And that, Dawn, is why I’m not so crazy about the dark.”

Dawn sniffled, trying to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. “I kinda get that now.”

* * *

Scott emerged from the bathroom into his bedroom to find his mom awaiting him on his bed. It was a good thing he’d wrapped a towel around his waist, that was for sure.

“Party or date?” she asked. She could read him like a book.

Scott blushed. “Kind of both?”

“What’s her name?”

“Allison…” Scott managed, “She’s new.”

His mom nodded, smiling proudly. “Your first date! You can have the car—“

“Thank you!”

“And I know I don’t need to sit you down to talk about—“

Scott shook his head and quickly interrupted. “No, I don’t need a sex talk.”

“To talk about taking car of the car,” she finished. She shook her head and hesitantly dropped the car keys on the bed as she stood and headed for the bedroom door. “Que te diviertas,” she added, “But not too much, comprendes?”

“Sí mamá,” Scott replied, groaning inwardly, “I got it.”

* * *

Stiles and Jesse arrived at the party ready for action. The fact Jesse hadn’t been invited barely caught anyone’s attention, so many people from the school were there. Stiles, at least, had been invited by virtue of being on the lacrosse team. That didn’t mean most of the party-goers were happy to see them.

“It’s nice to get away from the Bronze sometimes,” Cordelia was saying to Harmony, “Even if some of the same creepers showed up here.”

Their reception by the Cordettes was hardly their chief concern, fortunately. “Have you thought at all about what we do when Scott gets here?” Jesse wondered aloud, clearing trying to ignore what Cordelia had just said.

Stiles shook his head. “Not really. I wish Xander had come.”

“Well, he found the whole thing pretty hard to believe,” Jesse pointed out, “Not really surprising. I’m not convinced myself.”

“I showed you both the claw marks on my chair!” Stiles protested.

Jesse shrugged. “I mean, there’s so many things that could have done that…”

“So many things,” Stiles quipped, “There’s such an array of human-sized things with claws in the world.”

Jesse shoved an elbow into Stiles’ rib cage. “Look who’s here.”

Scott was holding the front door of Lydia’s house open for Allison to enter. Judging by his clothes, he’d obviously been trying to impress her. He never wore anything quite so form-fitting when he was hanging out with Stiles.

Allison, likewise, had clearly put some thought and effort into her outfit – though for Scott’s benefit or everyone else’s was questionable. The blue blazer she wore over a white blouse was probably among the most fashionable outfits in the whole place – and that included Lydia.

“Scott, hey!” Stiles exclaimed, waving as jovially as he could manage.

Scott ignored him – clearly he had not forgiven or forgotten their last conversation.

“Good talk,” Stiles nodded, watching as Scott and Allison made their way out towards Lydia’s pool, “I think this is all on you, Jesse.”

* * *

Scott could not believe his luck. Allison had never looked more beautiful, and she had clasped onto his hand as soon as they’d entered the party. Scott was pretty sure that was a girl’s way of claiming her territory. He didn’t mind, at all.

Even Stiles’ presence wasn’t enough to ruin his mood. He hadn’t cancelled his date, and Stiles could think whatever he wanted about that. They’d been polite enough to greet Lydia – who was polite enough to stop making out with Jackson long enough to shake Scott’s hand and give Allison a big hug. And Jackson, meanwhile, was polite enough not to say anything to Scott at all.

The light of the moon was bright enough that it was practically daylight on the patio area that surrounded Lydia’s pool. Allison pulled Scott to her before they could even consider heading back inside and the next thing Scott knew they were dancing, bodies pressed together.

They’d barely been dancing two minutes when he began to feel sharp pains wash over his body.

“Are you okay, Scott?” Allison asked, “You look a little…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish before taking off through the doors to the inside of the house. He could hear Allison following him, he could hear the concern in Stiles’ and Jesse’s voices… it didn’t matter what they said. He had to get out of there. He felt like his head was going to implode, and he really didn’t want that to happen in front of people.

He pushed through the crowd, out the front door and hurried blindly towards his mother’s car. An arm clad in a leather jacket reached out to stop him, but Scott shoved past it and, fumbling with the keys, got into the car and sped away.

* * *

Stiles’ jaw dropped at the sight of Derek, even though Scott didn’t seem to recognize him. Again. “Beyond creepy,” he murmured.

Allison – who’d been tailing Scott much more closely than Stiles or Jesse – rounded on them as soon as Scott’s car peeled away. “What the hell is going on with Scott?” she demanded.

“He’s sick!” Jesse stammered.

“Migraines!” Stiles agreed, “I know it’s hard to believe, Allison, but sometimes his migraines just pop out of nowhere.”

Jesse nodded. “Yeah, it’s awful. They start up and he just… poof. Gone.”

“Allison?” another voice cut in. Derek was standing immediately behind her. “I’m a friend of… Scott’s, and he said that you should feel free to get a ride with me. Whenever you want to go.”

“Yeah, I’m all partied out I think,” Allison said glumly, “Let’s go then.”

“Wait, Allison, I can give you a ride,” Stiles jumped in, “Seriously. I’m a much safer driver.”

“Less creepy too,” Jesse muttered.

Allison either ignored Jesse or didn’t hear him. “No, Stiles, you’re on the team. It’s your party. Stay and have fun.”

“No, it’s fine, everyone here hates me.”

“Stay, Stiles, have fun. I’m going.” Allison’s tone of voice clearly indicated that the debate was over. If her tone hadn’t been enough, the fact that she turned on her heel and walked away definitely was.

“Why is Derek Hale giving Scott’s date a ride home right now?” Stiles wondered aloud.

“If Scott’s a werewolf… what if Derek’s a werewolf too?” Jesse theorized, “I mean, _someone_ had to bite Scott.”

* * *

Scott leaned against the bathroom sink. Light from the full moon was pouring in the window, and the agony was not subsiding. His fingers had grown longer, his nails transforming into claws. He couldn’t stop staring at them, even though he could feel hair growing on the sides of his face. He could feel fangs extending from his upper and lower canines.

When he finally tore his eyes away from his hands to look into the mirror he saw a golden glow from around his pupils.

He hardly had time to examine it before his bedroom door was hurled open. Stiles and Jesse barged in. “Scott!” Stiles exclaimed.

“What’s with your face?” Jesse gasped.

“I guess this is what a werewolf looks like,” Scott growled.

“Apology accepted.” Stiles cut in.

Scott ignored him. “Allison?”

“She… she got a ride from Derek Hale.” Stiles swallowed nervously after this pronouncement.

“We think he may be the one that bit you,” Jesse added, “Like, why else would he be there?”

Scott didn’t say anything else. He ran across the room to the open window above his bed and leapt from it. The sounds of a splash below followed by running feet told them Scott had landed safely.

“What do we do?” Jesse asked, “I mean, I don’t want to fight a werewolf.”

* * *

Sunnydale Nature Preserve was where he’d been when he’d first met Derek. Scott wasn’t thinking too clearly, he was mostly focused on saving Allison from the monster’s clutches, but it seemed to make sense that this was the place to look. Since he’d leapt from his window, he’d seemed to transform even further – his vision was red, and he could see… well, _everything_. And now that he’d reached the Preserve, he could even smell Allison.

He followed the scent with an urgency and speed he didn’t know he had in him. He was learning an awful lot about himself this week. The trail ended beside a tree with no sign of Allison – snarling, he looked around until his eye fell upon her blazer draped over a branch. “Where is she?” he growled.

“Safe,” a voice informed him sharply, “From you.” Derek emerged from behind another tree. Scott charged, but Derek easily sidestepped him and grabbed his arm, turning and throwing Scott into another tree. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You’re going to,” Scott turned to charge again, “Tell me where she is!”

“She’s safe,” Derek said, catching Scott by the shoulders. His face began to transform, lumps rising above his eyes and fangs growing out of his mouth.

And then they heard a crunch of footsteps.

“Run,” Derek hissed, launching himself into a hasty retreat.

Scott was stunned. “Why?”

An explosion of light seemed to appear from the ground in front of him. What had caused it, he had no idea. He stumbled back, slamming bodily against the tree Derek had just thrown him into.

He heard a twang, and a whistling sound – but with his vision still blurred by the flash of light, he had no idea what was speeding towards him until the arrow impaled his arm and pinned him to the tree.

* * *

Dawn sat silently at the foot of Buffy’s bed. Buffy didn’t usually let her sister into her room but, at this point, it wasn’t like there were any secrets left between them. And she really didn’t want Dawn to be alone at this exact moment.

“So it’s all true?” Dawn finally asked, “Everything you were saying before…”

Buffy nodded glumly. “Yeah. But I’m done with all of this when we get to Sunnydale. I’m just going to be a normal girl.”

“How do you know?”

“I can’t imagine there’s many monsters in a place called Sunnydale, can you?”

* * *

Scott’s vision was just returning in time to see Derek snap the arrow in half and pull Scott away from the tree. “I said to run,” he snapped, “Now let’s go.”

Scott did not need to be told a third time. He raced after Derek, barely managing to keep up. “Who are they?” he asked, glancing behind them. A trio of men followed them, each armed to the teeth with guns, crossbows in hand, and various other weapons adorning them. The obvious leader of the group was smiling, obviously enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

“Werewolf hunters,” Derek replied, veering to the left. Scott followed. “A particular group who have centuries of experience.”

“Hunters?” Scott exclaimed, “You bit me, turned me into this, and put a target on my back!”

“I…” Derek came to a stop. “You don’t understand what a gift these abilities are, do you? I mean, do you play any sports?”

“Is this really a time for getting to know each other as pals?” Scott snapped, “Three men back there are trying to kill us, remember?”

Derek nodded. “You’re right. Best if we split up. But, Scott? Remember that we’re in this together now.”

“And Allison?”

“I dropped her off at her home,” Derek replied with a shrug, “She left her jacket in my car. Go home, Scott. Come find me when you want to control your abilities, not blame me for them.” With nothing else to say, Derek disappeared into the woods.

Scott scowled, but took off at a run in the direction of the road.

* * *

Although Scott called Allison the next day, the weekend passed without any word from her. Even Monday she seemed to be avoiding him.

“She just needs time to cool down,” Willow assured him at lunch, “She’ll be fine.”

“No,” Jesse shook his head, “You need to go talk to her. Prove you’re still invested! I mean, she can’t be that mad after we told her about your ‘migraines’.”

“What did happen exactly?” Xander put in, “You just bailed?”

“I’m positive you wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” Stiles shook his head. Scott was glad of it, he really didn’t want the werewolf thing to become public knowledge.

* * *

Scott had mulled over the advice of his friends, until he finally decided what to do. After last period ended, he waited outside the doors of school. Even if he was late for lacrosse practice, it didn’t matter. He was going to talk to Allison. The second she emerged from the school building, Scott fell into step beside her.

“I’m really sorry about the party,” he told her.

She sighed. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads better. These migraines just…”

“Your friends told me,” Allison cut in.

“Do you think you can give me a second chance?”

“Well, it’s not like you can control migraines I guess,” Allison said, a smirk keeping across her face, “I guess we can give it another shot. But my dad’s here, I have to run.”

Scott beamed at her. “Okay. Just call me, y’know, whenver.” She headed for the row of cars parked on the street, and he turned to head towards lacrosse practice.

But then he caught a familiar scent. He turned back… Allison was hugging a man with a very familiar smile.

Her dad was a werewolf hunter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**...to be continued...**


	2. Second Chance at First Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes harder and harder for Scott to keep his new condition a secret, and that's only putting him in even more danger. Meanwhile, Buffy prepares for a quiet new chapter of her life.

 “Stiles!” Scott hissed, grabbing his friend’s arm and yanking him into the corner of the locker room where he was lurking. He’d left Allison only minutes earlier and he couldn’t shake what he’d just seen – what he’d just realized – out of his mind. He had to talk to someone, and right now there were only two people he _could_ talk to.

“Dude, our lockers aren’t even over here,” Stiles jabbed his finger towards the lockers the rest of the team was using. The locker room was pretty large – each team pretty much kept to their own section of it. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were in the football team’s lockers. Or possibly the male cheerleaders.

Scott ignored Stiles’ objection and went on in a whispered voice. “Her dad’s a hunter!”

“You need to back up a second,” Stiles shook his head, “Whose dad is a what-er?”

“Allison’s dad!” Scott exclaimed, much more loudly than he meant to. He smiled weakly at the rest of his team – virtually all of whom had snapped their heads over to look at him. Lowering his voice again, he continued, “Allison’s dad is one of the hunters I told you about.”

“Please tell me he’s not the smiling guy,” Stiles frowned.

“He’s the smiling guy,” Scott grimaced, “I am completely screwed.” He sank into the locker behind him, grateful it was there to prop him up.

Stiles nodded, “Not completely. I mean, did she give you another chance?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Did her dad recognize you?” Stiles asked, “Does she know about you? Or her dad?”

“I don’t know,” Scott realized, “I have no idea. This is it. Completely screwed.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles dragged Scott towards the lacrosse team’s lockers, “No, listen. You’ll be fine. Just focus on lacrosse.”

* * *

 

Lacrosse practice did not even begin well for Scott. He was distracted by the fact he was dating a hunter’s daughter, which wasn’t helping and was probably why the strange new abilities he had acquired didn’t seem to be doing much. By the time practice was winding down, Scott managed to let go of his romantic problems in favor of being utterly frustrated and more than a little furious with himself.

And then he found himself standing on the field staring down Jackson Whittemore. Coach Finstock blew the whistle and Scott launched into a run. Not any faster than anyone else’s and Jackson was absolutely prepared for him – easily knocking him to the ground.

“McCall!” Coach Finstock bellowed, “You’re moving slower than my dead grandmother today. Do it again!”

Scott snarled as he rose to his feet – realizing in that moment that his teeth were suddenly much sharper than they’d been only seconds before. He was transforming. On the field. In front of everyone.

“Aren’t you glad you made first line?” Jackson quipped, walking back to his position.

Scott just glared at him and growled. His concerned faded in the blind rage that overtook him.

“McCall’s gonna do it again!” Coach Finstock announced. Scott barely heard him – but when the whistle went, he charged again – this time slamming into Jackson at full force. Jackson collapsed with a cry, clutching his shoulder. Scott could feel his own muscles twisting, claws emerging from his fingertips.

“Scott?” Stiles put a hand on his shoulder – Scott wasn’t even sure where Stiles had come from. He was sure it didn’t matter, Stiles was putting himself in serious danger.

“Get away from me,” he growled, “I’m changing!” Without waiting for a reaction, Scott took off at a run as fast as his legs would go – much faster than he ordinarily could run – and headed for the locker room. He had to get away from everyone before someone was killed.

* * *

Stiles peered nervously into the locker room. Scott hadn’t even turned on a light – which, Stiles reasoned after he made the observation, actually made sense. Stiles flipped the switch himself and called out, “Scott?”

Nothing.

“Scott?”

Stiles thought he heard a rustle, and ventured slowly into the locker room. “Scott? Buddy?”

Now, Stiles definitely heard a growl – it sounded like it was coming from… above him? Before he could react, Scott leapt from the top of the lockers and landed less than a foot away. Stiles stumbled backwards in surprise – which was lucky because Scott swiped for him with a clawed hand at that same moment.

“Scott, it’s me,” Stiles stammered, “It’s Stiles…”

Scott advanced again, snarling. Even through the lacrosse helm, Stiles could see the sharp fangs glistening with saliva, and the eyes glowing gold. Stiles stumbled backwards again – slamming into the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall and practically knocking it onto the floor.

Scott didn’t seem eager to let Stiles recover from this – he lunged forward again.

* * *

Buffy watched her mom thumb through a stack of papers on the kitchen counter. “So, that’s it?”

“Yes,” her mom nodded, “Looks like your parents are officially divorced.”

It wasn’t the kind of thing you said ‘congratulations’ to, and Buffy wasn’t especially thrilled about it anyways, so she just nodded. “And you found a house in Sunnydale already?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful too. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“I’m sure I will,” Buffy agreed, “I’m just worried about Dawn. This is all happening really fast now.”

Her mother shrugged. “I know it’s fast, Buffy, but it’s all coming together so nicely. Like it’s fate, almost.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She’d had about all she could take of fate for one lifetime.

* * *

Stiles was amazed he’d managed to dodge Scott’s claws one more time – buying him enough time to get the extinguisher off the wall and, fumbling, aim it at his best friend. Scott moved in for another attack, but Stiles let the foam spray.

He couldn’t even see Scott through the onslaught, but he did manage to hear “Stiles! Stop! What the hell?”

Stiles released his hold on the extinguisher’s hose. He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he heard Scott’s voice – non-growling voice. “What do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ You tried to kill me!”

“I don’t even know how I got here, Stiles,” Scott insisted, a worried expression over his face, “I was playing lacrosse and then… it’s all black until you were spraying me with the extinguisher.”

“You tried to kill me,” Stiles replied sourly. He scowled for a moment then added, “See, this is the problem with a werewolf and lacrosse. Raised heart rate and adrenaline, which can trigger the change. And lacrosse is pretty violent, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Scott groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, but you absolutely cannot play in the game this weekend. And do not get mad at me for saying that, I will spray you again.”

“We have to find a way to stop me from changing then,” Scott announced, “Before Wednesday’s practice.”

* * *

Stiles was relieved to discover that Mr. Giles was still in the library. Scott still seemed unconvinced that this was going to lead to any answers. But he was willing to try anything.

Mr. Giles, however, was not so eager to assist. “I can’t help you,” he insisted, “Even lending you that one book, truly, was more than I should have done. As it is, lycanthropy is not my area of expertise.”

Stiles squinted one eye at the librarian. “So what is your expertise?”

“I can’t discuss my area of expertise with uninitiated teenagers,” Mr. Giles muttered.

“So initiate us!” Stiles exclaimed, “What is the big deal here? You gave us the book!”

Mr. Giles shook his head. “I should not even have done that.”

Scott inserted himself boldly into the argument. “Look, Mr. Giles, whatever you might know could help. We’re not just looking into this for kicks – I’m trying to figure out my life.”

The British librarian sighed. “I don’t have any resources about lycanthropy save the one book, which your friend still needs to return. In the mean time, from what I do know, you need to avoid any excitement you can.” He cast a warning look over the duo, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

Scott collapsed on his bed as soon as he got home. Stiles had, as he explained, let Jesse borrow the book – more to keep it from the Sheriff’s notice than anything else. As much as Scott would have liked to get a look at the tome himself, both Stiles and Scott knew that Monday nights were a strictly enforced “family night” at the McNally household and Jesse was strictly forbidden from having friends over once he got home from school. As urgent as this was, it would have to wait until the next day.

“Hey, Scott?” his mom’s voice announced her presence moments before she walked into the room, “I’m working the night shift again. There’s a plate in the fridge if you want to…” She trailed off and stared at him. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Scott jumped up and put his hands over his face. “What?” he exclaimed.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” she added, “You okay?”

Scott nodded. “Just stressed.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Scott shook his head.

“Girl problems?” she pressed further, “Trouble at school? It’s not drugs or anything, right?”

“No, mom, none of that,” Scott waved her off.

“You’re not on drugs, right?”

“Right now?” He rolled his eyes.

“¿Cómo?” his mom snapped, suddenly getting serious, “What do you mean, ‘right now’? Have you taken drugs?”

“Have you?” Scott retorted.

Silence settled in the bedroom. “Muy bien,” she said finally, “You have food in the fridge you can nuke if you get hungry. Oh, and I took Saturday off so I can see your first game!”

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed, “You can’t do that!” If only he could explain what a terrible idea that was. But he couldn’t, and it became immediately apparent there was no dissuading her.

“I can. I will. I’m going to,” she said firmly, “One night is not going to break us. Completely.”

“But mom…”

“Hecho. I’m coming to your game Saturday. There’s food in the fridge. Buenas noches.” She strode out – leaving Scott scowling in her wake. This just kept getting better.

* * *

Try as he might, Scott’s mind would not stop whirring. What had happened to Jackson, how badly was he hurt? And how was he going to get out of the game on Saturday? Had Allison’s father recognized him? Did Allison know about werewolves, was she a hunter too? He couldn’t even imagine how screwed he was.

Fortunately, the laptop on his desk interrupted him with an alert that Jesse was trying to Skype him. Scott smiled and accepted the call.

“Heard from Stiles!” Jesse announced in lieu of greeting, “Texted me about everything. You’ve had a messed up day. Heard you separated Jackson’s shoulder, that was cool!”

“I hope he can still play,” Scott groaned, “Have you looked at this book at all?”

Jesse hoisted the large, ancient-looking book onto his own desk, in view of the screen. “I mean, a little,” he admitted, “But I had homework and stuff. And I don’t really know what to look for. I’ve never been good at research…” He grimaced. “Remember my report on the Declaration of Independence last year?”

Scott nodded. The report was infamous. “Yeah, and I gotta side with the teacher. _National Treasure_ really isn’t a source.”

“Nicolas Cage is a very underrated actor,” Jesse murmured, “Anyways, I need help. And it sounded urgent, so… Is there somebody else there?”

“What?” Scott glanced behind him. He didn’t see anybody... but it was awfully dark in the rest of the room.

“I just thought I saw a shadow of somebody in the doorway…” Jesse trailed off. “No, there’s definitely—“ Scott’s laptop slammed shut.

“Been a few days, Scott,” Derek Hale observed, lifting his hand from the closed computer, “Thought we should talk.”

“How the hell do you know where I live?” Scott shouted, “You’re in my bedroom, what the hell?”

“I can smell you,” Derek reminded him, tapping the side of his nose, “Human and wolf scents. Having trouble with your changes, by the way? Yeah, caught wind of that earlier today too.”

Scott frowned. “I can handle it. You can go.”

“No, you can’t,” Derek insisted, lowering his face to meet Scott’s, eye to eye. “Your friend’s little book won’t have the answers. And in the mean time, you’re risking, not just your life, but all of ours. I can help you, if you’ll let me. But it could take some time.”

“How much time?” Scott hesitated. Derek was hardly a reliable source, as far as he was concerned, but there weren’t that many other options either. “There’s a big lacrosse game on Saturday.”

“Not for you there’s not,” Derek growled, “You’ll kill someone. And then I will have to kill you myself.” He flashed very large fangs at Scott, in case it wasn’t clear that he had the means to carry out the threat. Scott couldn’t protest or argue, Derek didn’t leave time before he leapt out the open window and vanished into the night.

* * *

“I can’t play the game Saturday,” Scott announced, having followed the coach into his office the next morning.

Coach Finstock stared at him. Hard. “You mean, you can’t wait to play the game.”

“No,” Scott shook his head, and repeated himself. “I can’t play the game Saturday.”

“I’m pretty convinced that you can,” Coach Finstock countered.

Scott insisted. “Look, I’m having some personal issues—“

“Girls really shouldn’t get in the way of lacrosse,” Coach Finstock said, taking on a somewhat gentler tone, “Chicks love athletes.”

“It’s not a girl…”

Coach Finstock nodded knowingly. “I get ya. But, hey, listen, Danny’s gay, you know? So you should talk to him.”

“It’s not a guy, either.”

“It’s not?” Coach eyed Scott quizzically for a moment. “You don’t think Danny’s a good-looking guy? I think the two of you would be some kind of lacrosse championship couple in the making. Stuff of legend!”

“I’m not gay, Coach,” Scott persisted.

“Aha!” Coach exclaimed, “So, it’s drugs? Look, my cousin was on meth for a while. His teeth all rotted – it was awful. I mean, then he got veneers and then he got on with an Internet startup that’s really taken off—but that’s no the point. Don’t do drugs. Are you going to rehab, is that what this is about?”

“No, there’s no drugs. I’m having anger problems…”

“Perfect!” Coach shouted, “That’s what lacrosse is for! So, listen very closely. Saturday night, you will play the game. And you will take all you anger issues out on the other team. You’re first line – act like it, or you won’t be first line. With Jackson out of commission, we’re all counting on you. Now get the hell out of my office.”

* * *

“Can you explain this to me?” Willow asked, leaning against her locker. The gang had gathered by their lockers between classes – though Jesse was strangely absent despite the fact that his locker was right across the hall. “Like, I don’t really understand sports, but shouldn’t you be happy? You’ve wanted first line for a year and a half. And now you’ve got it, and you’re playing Saturday. What’s the problem?”

“And your mom is coming,” Xander added, “And that’s bad?”

“After what I did to Jackson?” Scott stammered, glancing at Stiles for help. Stiles simply shrugged and stayed silent – so Scott continued as best as he could manage, “I mean, I’m having some anger issues. And I should really focus on that, work on me…”

Xander squinted. “Anger issues? When did that start? Because, like, I’ve known you a long time and—“

“Scott!” Willow, Xander, Scott, and Stiles’ heads all snapped to attention at Allison’s voice. She was bouncing down the nearby steps and grinning at them. “I was looking for you this morning!”

“Yeah, I was talking to the coach…” Scott sort of mumbled.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m bringing my dad with me to the game on Saturday,” she announced, “I’m so excited to see you play!”

“You’ve seen me play at practice…”

“A game is different,” Allison smirked, “The pressure’s on! Anyways, after the game, Lydia and Jackson and I are all going to this place called the Bronze after the game? You guys have to come. Have you ever been?”

“Everyone in Sunnydale has been to the Bronze,” Xander answered, “We go all the time. But we don’t go with Jackson and Lydia.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Willow agreed.

Allison was clearly about to protest when the bell rang. “Well, you’re invited anyways. I have to get to class – see you at lunch, Scott.”

“Yeah!” Scott nodded with enthusiasm as Allison walked away down the hall.

“We all have to get to class,” Willow said, grabbing Xander by the arm, “Biology, come on!”

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes as he was dragged down the hall. Scott trudged in the opposite direction towards his math class. He’d barely made it three steps when a quick, melodic ring came from his cell phone – a text. Scott glanced down at the screen. It was a very simple message from Jesse: “Library. After school.”

* * *

Scott found himself trying to solve an elaborate math problem on the board, in front of the whole class, only moments later. Mrs. Frank had, apparently, decided that the last people to arrive in class should be the first to demonstrate on the blackboard. Which, of course, also meant Scott was working next to Lydia.

“Heard you’re trying to get out of the game on Saturday,” she muttered, the chalk in her hand pounding away at the blackboard. Scott couldn’t help but notice that he’d barely begun, and she seemed nearly done.

“How did you…”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Scott,” Lydia cut him off, “You will be playing though. Especially since Jackson won’t be at his peak condition.”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“I’m dating the captain of the lacrosse team,” Lydia explained, exasperated, “But if you lose on Saturday, I’m dating the captain of the losing lacrosse team. I do not date losers. Are we clear?”

“I can’t play,” Scott insisted.

Lydia just rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m telling you this to save your social life. If you don’t play, I’m going to end up introducing Allison to all of the incredibly hot boys we’ll run into at the Bronze. I won’t be able to help myself. You wouldn’t want to lose her before you’ve even had a shot to make good on that second chance she is inexplicably giving you, would you?”

She slammed her piece of chalk down into the metal shelf at the bottom of the blackboard, spun on her heel, and strode triumphantly back to her seat.

“Scott, you’re not even close to solving your problem,” Mrs. Frank observed.

Scott sighed. “Tell me about it.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully. When the bell rang, signaling the end of his last class of the day, Scott headed for the library to meet Jesse. He was a man on a mission…. until he spotted Allison and Lydia down the hall.

Lydia was talking to Isaac Lahey, Allison seemed to be standing by waiting. Scott slid up against the lockers and stared, trying to catch even the tiniest bit of conversation. It didn’t take long for his ears to start picking them up.

“Of course, you know Isaac, don’t you Allison?”

Allison smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Isaac smiled, though he seemed confused.

Scott burned. Lydia was already making good on her threat and the game hadn’t even happened yet. A feeling began growing within him – one that was growing familiar. He was shifting…

And then Allison turned and saw him, smiling. “Scott!”

His anger vanished instantly. “So you’re meeting the rest of the lacrosse team, huh?”

She shrugged. “Lydia’s just thinking that I should know everyone before we’re all hanging out at the Bronze,” she replied, “I mean, rather than meeting everyone all at once.”

Scott hardly believed that Lydia was being altruistic by any stretch, but he nodded nonetheless – and then he noticed it. A blazer, draped over her hands. “That’s the blazer you wore to Lydia’s party…” Scott observed.

“Oh, yeah,” Allison held it up nonchalantly, “Lydia must have put it in my locker. I guess I left it at her place when your friend Derek gave me a ride home.”

“Not my friend,” Scott muttered.

“What?”

“He’s not really my friend,” Scott repeated, “In fact, you should really stay away from him.”

Allison quirked an eyebrow. “He said he was your friend.”

“It’s complicated,” Scott answered, a bit too hastily, “Just stay away from him.”

“Why?”

Scott stammered for a moment, but couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation. “I have to meet Jesse in the library right now, just… could you trust me?”

“Okay,” Allison sighed, “But you _are_ explaining this later.”

* * *

When Scott finally reached the library, Jesse was sprawled across three chairs and looked barely awake. He perked up immediately when Scott entered. “Great! Now we’re just waiting on—“

As if on cue, the doors flung open behind Scott and Stiles raced into the room. “I’m here, I’m sorry, I was talking to Xander and then I had to lose Xander and why aren’t we telling Xander again?”

“We did,” Jesse reminded him, “It didn’t take.”

“Right,” Stiles nodded.

Scott interjected, “What did you find out?”

“It wasn’t much,” Jesse admitted, “It’s more of a jumping-off-point than actual information. But I did check with Giles to—“

“Giles?” Scott interrupted.

“Mr. Giles, the librarian,” Stiles explained, “He gave us the book, probably smart to check in with him.”

“And to give the book back!” an accented voice added from the office.

“I checked with Giles,” Jesse continued, ”To make sure I really understood. And what I found out is that werewolves have anchors – that’s how they control themselves. It’s like an item or person or emotion that ties them to their humanity, instead of letting the wolf take over.”

“So what’s my anchor?”

Jesse shrugged. “You have to find that out. Only you can do that, but…”

“But?” Scott and Stiles asked in stereo.

Jesse spread his hands, palms upward, out to his friends as if to demonstrate his lack of answers. “The book said that your pack mates, ‘by blood or by bite’, might be able to help. That’s a quote, that alliteration. I don’t talk like that. I don’t think anyone does. Good movie title though.”

“Sounds more like it’s about vampires, though,” Stiles shook his head.

“Pack mates?” Scott jumped in, “You mean, Derek?”

* * *

Scott’s bicycle skidded to a halt in the leaf-strewn driveway of the Hale House. Scott leapt off, letting the bike pitch sideways and fall to the ground. There was a Camaro in the driveway – someone was home. “Derek! Derek!”

Before he could yell for him another time, Scott was hit with a terrible smell. Something… rotting. And blood, lots of blood. He trailed his eyes around the wooded lot, looking for the source of the odor.

A patch of dirt… recently disturbed somehow. That was the only thing that looked out of place.

“What do you want, Scott?” Derek’s asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in front of the house.

“I need help,” Scott admitted, tearing his attention away from the dirt and the odor, “And I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I need you to stay away from Allison,” Scott went on, “She’s not part of this. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Your whole life is part of this until you get some control,” Derek shot back, “I am looking out for you, believe it or not.”

“Then help me find my anchor.” Scott crossed his arms over his chest.

Derek chuckled, “I can’t do that. You have to do that. And you better do it fast before your whole life falls apart.”

“Well, what is your anchor?”

“Trust me, Scott, you don’t want an anchor like mine.” Derek turned on his heel and stalked back into the house.

* * *

Stiles burst through the door into Scott’s bedroom without so much as a knock. “What did you find? Where did you find? What did you find?”

“Chill, Stiles,” Jesse advised, from his perch on the corner of Scott’s bed, “Breathe.”

“I was at Derek’s,” Scott explained, “And I smelled… a dead body. And blood.”

“So Derek is a murderer?” Stiles reasoned aloud, “I mean, I am not surprised. What are we going to do about it?”

“Well, Scott will need his help to find his anchor, right?” Jesse added.

“He said he can’t help me,” Scott replied dully, “Which was great since he’d threatened to kill me if I can’t control my shifting.”

“Then there’s only one thing we can do,” Stiles concluded, “We have to figure out a plan to get evidence together and give it to my dad.”

* * *

The following day was relatively uneventful – Scott managed to make it through his lacrosse practice without shifting at all, a miracle that gave him some hope for Saturday’s game. Though Jesse and Stiles were eager to investigate the body after practice, Scott couldn’t avoid having to close up the veterinary clinic that night.

All in all, there was no way for the three of them to enact the first step of their plan until Thursday evening. Timing was everything – they needed to arrive at the hospital after Scott’s mom began her shift, so that Scott’s being in the hospital would not be suspicious to anyone of her coworkers, but at a time when she would probably not be making the rounds and spot him herself.

“Have you ever actually been to the morgue?” Jesse pondered as the trio headed in through the sliding glass doors.

Scott shook his head. “There’s signs all over the place.”

It only took a few minutes for them to find the first sign reading “morgue” in one of several sitting areas lined with couches. Stiles took up watch her, promising to call Jesse if there was any sign of Mrs. McCall.

Jesse and Scott followed the signs until they reached the metal door for the morgue. Jesse stood watch out here, while Scott went inside.

It did not take long for Scott to find the drawer labeled “Jane Doe: Partial” that he was looking for. He pulled the refrigerated drawer open, and quickly lifted the sheet covering the legs. Teeth marks perforated the skin. Scott grimaced, but inhaled.

The blood smelled the same. Derek had the other half of this body.

A clanging of metal brought Scott back into the urgency of the moment. He had to get out of there – and Jesse must’ve banged on the door to get his attention. Scott hastily covered the legs in the sheet and slid them back, shutting the door behind them. With a quick glance around to make sure he’d left everything in place, Scott left the room and slammed the morgue door shut behind him.

Jesse was leaning casually against the wall. “That was fast.”

“Weren’t you banging on the door?”

“No,” Jesse raised his eyebrows, “You okay?”

“There was definitely something banging in there. I thought it was you, on the door.”

Jesse shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. Let’s go get Stiles.”

When the two of them reached Stiles, he was slouched in a chair with his face buried in an upside down pamphlet on breast-feeding.

“Whatcha reading?” Jesse asked, flipping the pamphlet upright.

“Not reading, hiding,” Stiles hissed, looking around furtively.

Scott’s jaw tightened. “What happened?”

“Lydia!” Stiles whispered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She and Jackson were making out _right there_.” He pointed vaguely. Jesse and Scott exchanged glances, affirming for each other that neither one knew where Stiles had seen this game of tonsil hockey happen. Stiles continued, “Jackson just got a cortisone shot. He’s definitely playing Saturday. And he’s pissed at you, Scott.”

“I can’t even think about that right now,” Scott shook his head, “That was the same body I smelled at Derek’s. That’s where my focus has to be.”

“You’re not thinking about the lacrosse game? Or how he threatened to kill you?” Stiles asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Scott shook his head. “You should have seen the legs, Stiles. There are bite marks all over them.”

* * *

Stiles drove to the Hale house immediately – parking on the street, though it was impossible to see the house from the road. Scott crept up the driveway until he spotted the Camaro. Derek was home. Of course, Derek was home.

“What do we do then?” Jesse asked.

Scott shrugged. “I don’t think there’s much we can do while he’s here.”

“Can we lure him out?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know what would get him to leave,” Scott shook his head, “I mean, I don’t really know anything about him. Do you?”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Well, if we don’t do anything tonight, maybe we can get some back up to make this work a little better?”

“Back up?” Jesse and Scott asked in unison.

* * *

The next night, fortunately, Derek was away from his house. Scott, Jesse, Stiles, and Xander had each brought a shovel – leaving Willow in Stiles’ Jeep to watch for Derek’s Camaro.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Xander grumbled as they trudged towards the house, “We are not the Scooby Gang. We’re not going to pull a mask off Derek Hale and he’s going to talk about us meddling kids.”

“Would you shut up for a Scooby snack?” Stiles quipped.

“Right here,” Scott announced, stopping by a mound of dirt by the side of the house and planting his shovel into it. “Something seems, I dunno, different. But this is the spot.” The other three hastily went to work beside him, throwing dirt aside in piles.

After a while, Jesse dropped his shovel on the edge of the pit they had created. “I don’t think there’s anything here, guys,” he sighed.

As if on cue, Stiles’ shovel hit something in the dirt. “No, there is,” he exclaimed – louder than he should have, “Help me guys!” All four of them immediately crouched into the pit and began brushing off what appeared to be an enormous burlap cloth – revealing it was tied around _something_ with a thick rope – secured with several knots. The knots were tight, but proved fairly easy to unravel.

“Moment of truth,” Scott inhaled sharply, reaching for the edge of the edge of the cloth and pulling the package open.

“”Oh my God!” Jesse shouted as all four of them leaping out of the pit at the sight of what they’d dug up – a dead wolf.

“A body, you said!” Stiles snapped at Scott, “Like, a human one! How does this smell like a body in the morgue?”

“Smell?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“Didn’t I say something seemed different?” Scott retorted.

“Did you say smell?” Xander repeated, “This isn’t more werewolf crap, is it?”

“What are these flowers?” Jesse interrupted, “There’s these purple flowers all around it.”

“In circles?” Stiles observed, “Wolfsbane, maybe? It looks like the pictures from the book.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Wolfsbane?” Stiles repeated, “Its… I mean, you saw _The Wolfman_ , right?”

“No,” Scott shook his head.

Stiles rolled his eyes and muttered, “We’re doing all this reading for you, you can’t even watch a classic movie…”

“There’s no such thing as werewolves,” Xander insisted.

Stiles ignored him, returning his attention to the flowers. He yanked one up from the ground – pulling a rope out of the dirt with it. “They’re woven into this,” Stiles said, examining it more closely. He yanked the rope, coiling what he’d found around his elbow and forearm.

As he revealed the trail of the rope, a definite pattern emerged. “It’s a spiral,” Jesse pondered aloud, “A very precise spiral.”

“This is all a little too weird,” Xander announced, turning back to the open pit they had created. “Let’s just re-bury the dead—what the—“ He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. In the middle of the pit was now half of a dead, human girl. “She used to be a wolf!” Xander nearly shouted, “How the hell did she change?”

Scott extended his hand to help Xander back to his feet. “Werewolf crap.”

* * *

By the time the police arrived, Derek had returned to the decrepit house. The teenagers had driven a short ways down the street, but followed the three police cruisers down the long winding driveway to the Hale house. Xander and Stiles watched intently, insatiably curious about police procedure. Scott was too worried about what Derek might be able to do to the police to think about much else – especially since Stiles’ father was personally seeing to this arrest.

Stiles shared Scott’s concerns, of course, though he’d never seen a perpetrator that his father couldn’t handle. He wasn’t wrong here either – Sheriff Stilinski safely deposited Derek into the backseat of his cruiser, and then confidently strode away to oversee the examination of the now-exhumed body.

Stiles saw an opportunity. Despite the protests of each and every one of his friends in the Jeep, Stiles slipped out and snuck to his father’s car. The front door, he discovered, was conveniently unlocked. He slid into the passenger seat and stared Derek in those dark, unflinching, eerily calm eyes.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Stiles announced first. A brief silence settled in the car. Derek was clearly unimpressed. “Fine,” Stiles admitted, “A little afraid. Listen, I have questions I need to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“How was she a full wolf? What was with the wolfsbane?”

Derek just rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what questions to be asking. You are in so far over your head, but you don’t even know you’re drowning. There is no chance you can stop Scott from killing. He’s got no control. Focus on that.”

Stiles didn’t have a chance to respond before a hand grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him bodily out of the car. “What the hell are you doing, Stiles?” his father demanded.

“I am trying to help!” Stiles exclaimed.

The Sheriff scowled. “What part of ‘help’ sounds like ‘talk to the suspect’? No, if you want to help, you can explain to me how you found this body.”

“We were looking for Scott’s inhaler,” Stiles said – using the story Scott had suggested.

“And when did he lose that exactly?”

Stiles frowned. They hadn’t really put together the details. “The other night, I guess?”

“The other night when you told me you were in the woods by yourself?”

“No…uh, it was….” Stiles stammered.

“Were you lying to me?” Sheriff Stilinski had traded in his authoritative sheriff’s voice for his much more intimidating father’s voice.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“How do you define lying?”

The Sheriff crossed his arms and glowered. “I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?”

“I define it as reclining in a horizontal position,” Stiles did his best innocent smile, but he knew it was no use.

“Go home, I’ll deal with you later,” Sheriff Stilinski grumbled.

* * *

“How many times have I told you?” Willow asked. The entire gang was packed uncomfortably in the Jeep with their shovels and Jesse and Stiles’ backpacks. Stiles was driving like he couldn’t get away from the Hale house fast enough. “Just because your dad is sheriff doesn’t mean we’re not all gonna end up in jail. I can’t go to jail – I have classes to go to.”

“No one is getting in trouble but me,” Stiles assured her.

Scott interrupted from his the passenger seat, “My head is splitting. Can we crack a window or something?”

“You’re sitting right next to the window,” Xander pointed out, “Crack it open yourself.”

“Right,” Scott nodded, glancing into the overcrowded backseat, “Thanks. Forgot.”

Xander shrank as far back as he could the moment his friend looked at him. “What’s going on with your eyes?”

Scott began to feel his face. “My eyes…?”

The reaction was instant. Stiles slammed on the brakes, the Jeep squealing to a stop on the side of the road. Xander threw his arm out in front of Willow to keep her from slamming into the back of the driver’s seat. Jesse grabbed for his backpack, yanking at the zipper.

“What is happening?” Willow asked.

No one had a chance to explain before Scott let out an agonized yell, sharp canine teeth emerging from his mouth right before everyone’s eyes. Willow shrieked, and Xander instinctively moved between her and Scott.

“Why is this happening?” Scott groaned.

Jesse shrugged as he pulled the tome out of his backpack. “I haven’t seen anything in this that matches this. Like, changing for no reason?”

“Uhm, could wolfsbane do this?” Stiles asked quietly.

“You brought it with us?” Scott snarled, leaning towards Stiles threateningly.

Stiles shook his head, “No, I’m getting rid of it right now!”

As Stiles grabbed his backpack, threw open the Jeep door and ran to the edge of the road, he heard Jesse get in one quick jab. “It’s called wolfs _bane_ , Stiles!”

Jesse was completely right – this was far from Stiles’ brightest idea. He needed to get rid of the wolfsbane as quickly as possible – another shriek from Willow really drove home that urgency, if nothing else had. With barely a second thought, Stiles hurled the backpack into the woods and turned back to the Jeep.

He found Jesse standing on the road, a broken shovel in hand and no sign of Scott at all. “What did I miss?”

“So much,” Jesse replied, “Scott’s on the loose. I tried to stop him but he, y’know, has super powers. So, now we’re also down a shovel.”

* * *

Scott vaguely knew he’d screwed something up. Some nagging inside him. But mostly he was occupied with other things. A familiar fragrance overwhelmed his nostrils – he was following that scent as though his life depended on it. He wasn’t sure that it didn’t. His vision was red – nothing but red – and yet he still saw every detail. He was the mightiest hunter in the world, and he was getting closer to his prey…

Something hard slammed into his side. He was tossed sideways, rolling pavement. When he opened his eyes, the red was gone. He blinked, dazed more by the sudden change back to his normal, completely human form than by being hit by a car.

He heard a car door slam shut and, almost at the same time, a voice coming from another direction. “Dad? What happened?” Allison’s voice? “Scott? Are you trying to kill him?”

“He just came out of nowhere,” a man’s voice said. He stepped into Scott’s field of vision only a moment later. Definitely Allison’s dad. Definitely trying to kill him.

“Sorry,” Scott mumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

Mr. Argent extended his hand towards Scott. The movement was not at all threatening, but Scott must’ve stared at the hand for a full minute before he realized that it was meant to help him get to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Allison’s dad asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.

Scott nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Good thing you weren’t going that fast, huh?”

“I tend not to speed in my driveway,” Mr. Argent nodded.

Driveway. Scott glanced around, surveying his surroundings for the first time. He was definitely in the front yard of a house – presumably the Argent family’s house – with only the vaguest recollection of how he had gotten here.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” Allison asked, stepping up to Scott and slipping her fingers around his arm.

The sudden touching was not lost on Mr. Argent. His eyes locked on Scott’s arm and would not move. “Yes, what are you doing here?” he asked. His tone was a lot more threatening now, but it was pretty clear that had nothing to do with whether or not Scott was going to be howling at the moon.

“Just wanted to say ‘hi’,” Scott smiled innocently, “I’ve been so busy the past couple days, you know.”

Allison grinned. “You’re allowed to be busy sometimes,” she assured him, “Like, shouldn’t you be getting a good night’s sleep before the game tomorrow night?”

“I guess,” Scott grinned back, “You’re still coming?”

“Of course,” Allison said seriously, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Me either,” her father chimed in, smiling broadly. It was not comforting.

* * *

Scott was slumped against his locker when Stiles entered the locker room the next night. Stiles didn’t even ask. Willow was busily not speaking to either of them, and Scott had already filled him in on getting hit by Mr. Argent’s car.

“Don’t think about it,” Stiles advised, “Don’t stress.”

Scott snorted derisively.

“I mean, just focus on the game. Lacrosse. You don’t need to think about how Willow, one of our closest friends for years, hates us. You don’t need to think about how your girlfriend’s father wants you dead. And how she’s not really your girlfriend yet because you blew it last week. Because of the full moon. Don’t think about Lydia’s trying to ruin it for you now. And definitely don’t think about the girl Derek killed. Or that Derek probably wants to kill you. Or that you might kill somebody…”

“Stiles, shut up,” Scott snapped, “You are not helping!”

“Right,” Stiles nodded and promptly did as he was told.

* * *

Scott had been struggling the whole game. His senses had heightened minutes into playing, but he was doing everything he could to stay calm. Despite the number of things that should have, understandably, been on Scott’s nerves the main thing that was worrying him through the game was Jackson’s insistence that none of his teammates pass him the ball. Most of the team was just grateful Jackson was playing at all – it was almost entirely his handy work that had the score tied up. And that was with an injured shoulder.

Had Stiles been on the field, he would never have gone along with Jackson’s plan. Of course, if Stiles had been on the field there was a solid chance he’d never have gotten the ball either. But Stiles was sitting worriedly on the bench, gnawing on one of his lacrosse gloves. He never took his eyes off of Scott. Jesse and Xander were similarly concerned, sitting in the bleachers. It was not exactly a vote of confidence on any of their parts. Scott’s mother was sitting just behind them in the stands with her own worried look – her enthusiasm had waned considerably when Scott had repeatedly not had the ball passed to him.

Allison and her father were watching him closely as well – whenever Lydia wasn’t coercing Allison into holding up one of an apparently never-ending series of signs praising Jackson. Before the game, Lydia had made a point of parading Allison past the bench. Mr. Argent had seemed unimpressed since the moment he arrived – and he seemed, if anything, even less impressed now.

Scott was so preoccupied with things outside of the game itself, he didn’t notice the opposing team’s number 10 running straight for him – and then through him. Scott thudded to the ground. Again. A harsh booing from the stand alerted Scott to the fact that he had just let the enemy score. He growled as he rose to his feet.

He could feel that sensation starting to surge over him. It was becoming familiar by now. The ball went back into play and – again – Scott’s teammates weren’t passing to him. But they were passing it…

Scott leapt into the air, snatching the ball from over the head of one of the opposing players. He charged, ignoring everything except the goal ahead of him. That was his prey. He hurled the ball and wheeled away. He knew he’d made it in already – he was the world’s greatest hunter.

Also, there was a cheer. That was a good clue too.

“Pass to McCall!” Coach Finstock screamed from the sidelines. “Pass to McCall!”

Scott took up his position again as Jackson and the other team’s captain started the ball off again. Scott charged as soon as he could – racing for Number 15, the opposing athlete who’d just gotten the ball. He whimpered  and then tossed the ball straight to Scott.

There was a confused and half-hearted cheer from the stands. Scott ignored it, rushing the goal, blowing past players on both teams. He launched the ball towards the net again – narrowly missing the goalie but easily landing in the goal itself. The timer sounded just as the ball hit the ground. He hadn’t even realized how close to the end of the game they were.

The crowd from the bleachers surged forward in celebration. Redness was washing over Scott’s vision, though. The urge to hunt was growing even stronger than it had been in the game. He growled, lips curling over his fangs.

A voice in his animal mind told him to run. And he did.

* * *

Jesse looked darkly at Xander. What they’d just seen was not like any Scott they’d ever seen on the lacrosse field – or bench – before. That was definitely something supernatural.

“I had no idea Scott could play like that!” Mrs. McCall exclaimed behind them, “I am so proud!”

Jesse turned – she was standing. She was going to go looking for him. “Speaking of proud,” he cut in with no idea what he was going to say, “Did you know…”

“Hi Mrs. McCall!” Stiles shouted from the foot of the bleachers. Just in the nick of time, “What’d you think of the game?”

“Well, I wish I could have seen you play, Stiles,” Mrs. McCall replied, “Where’s Scott?”

Stiles blanched. “Lockers,” he stammered, “He’s… well, the crowd, and… asthma! Inhaler. This has all been very emotional for him.”

Mrs. McCall seemed unconvinced, but sat back down, giving the three of them a deeply skeptical stare.

* * *

Allison, however, was not on the bleachers. She’d abandoned her father to run onto the field with much of the rest of the crowd. While the crowd was interested in aimless revelry, Allison had something else in mind.

There was a really cute boy she simply _had_ to talk to, and he’d just won the lacrosse game. She had taken note of exactly where he was standing and ran right there – only he wasn’t there. She looked around, confused. There was a lacrosse glove on the ground a few feet away... and in the distance behind it, Scott’s jersey disappearing into the darkened entrance to the locker room.

She smiled. She was willing to chase him.

* * *

Stiles, Jesse, and Xander sat awkwardly quietly near Mrs. McCall. Usually they had no trouble conversing with her – she was easily the coolest parent out of all of theirs. Tonight, though, was another story.

“So, how’s your father, Stiles?” Mrs. McCall asked, prodding for at least some kind of small talk.

Stiles perked up for a moment. “He’s here. He’s right…” He looked around and spotted his father, looking very serious on his cell phone. Stiles shrugged and pointed. “He’s working. I wonder what happened.”

* * *

Allison had never realized how creepy a dark locker room could be. She also could not find a light switch to save her life. The sounds of heavy breathing – which seemed to come from every direction – were not helping matters at all.

“Scott?” There was no answer. She crept a little further in. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but that sound wasn’t helping.

“Scott is that you?” Still no answer. She slid cautiously around a corner. “Scott? Seriously, Scott?”

And then there he was, practically on top of her. She gasped and stumbled backwards, slamming bodily into a locker.

“Allison, it’s me, it’s okay!” he exclaimed, taking a step backwards.

 “That was so embarrassing. It’s just creepy in here! Are you okay?”

Scott nodded, “Yeah. Just… got a little lightheaded.”

“I bet you were having quite the adrenaline rush,” she smirked, “You were doing okay out there.”

“Just okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Allison teased, “It’s not like you won the game or anything.”

Scott chuckled. “Hey, can I say I’m sorry? For being so weird this week?”

“I can deal with weird,” Allison said soothingly, “You’re forgiven.” She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head. Their lips brushed.

The electricity in the moment that followed should easily have been enough to turn the lights on, even without the lightswitch. As it was, Allison immediately forgot how dark it was in that room. “I, uhm, I…” she stammered, a nervous smile creeping across her face. She could claim she didn’t mean to… but she also didn’t mind if he thought that she did. Still, she reasoned, a first kiss should be something with a lot more intent behind it. Anything except what had just transpired.

Scott didn’t say anything for a moment. And then he kissed her. This time, it was no accident. She closed her eyes, just feeling his lips press against hers. Her lips pressing back against his. At some point he put his arms around her, though she was so entangled in the kiss itself she could hardly say how long before that happened. She couldn’t even say how long they kissed. However long it took to be completely out of breath.

Eventually, their mouths separated. She gave herself a second to catch her breath, to make sure her feet were steady on the ground. “I have to get back to my dad,” she finally said, managing to make it sound like an apology and a promise for the future at the same time.

She turned and started heading back out of the locker room. She rounded the corner and passed a very guilty-looking Stiles. She nodded a greeting, silent but embarrassed.

* * *

Stiles grinned at Scott. “So, that happened.”

“She kissed me,” Scott reported. “And then I kissed her. And then she kissed me back.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, “That is what happened. Pretty great.”

Scott playfully slapped Stiles’ arm. “Yeah, it is. I’m not totally sure how I did it, but I controlled my shift. I changed back. On purpose, even! I think, maybe, I can do this.”

“That’s awesome!” Stiles gave two half-hearted thumbs up. “You should sit, I have to kill your buzz now. My dad was just talking to the medical examiner. They determined that girl was killed by an animal. And since Derek isn’t one… they’re letting him out of jail.”

“That’s not a buzz kill,” Scott sank onto a bench. “Telling someone a murderous werewolf who now hates them is free to kill again is something more than that.”

“The plot actually thickened even more,” Stiles went on, “They identified the body. Laura Hale. Derek’s sister.”

* * *

The team was making its way towards the lockers when Jackson spotted it. A single glove lay on the field. Now that he thought about it, he’d seen McCall toss it aside when he ran towards the locker room himself.

He picked it up. Even hating McCall, he could be nice enough to return a glove. Unless something was wrong with it – why had McCall taken it off in the first place? Jackson turned the item over in his hands, examining it.

Something was wrong with it, actually. Each finger had a hole in the tip, like something had punctured through from the inside.

“What the hell is going on with you, McCall?”

* * *

Buffy watched out the door as the moving van pulled out of the driveway and headed off into the night. As soon as the truck itself was out of earshot, a quiet descended on the neighborhood. Revello Drive in Sunnydale looked perfectly quiet, perfectly calm. A little too suburban for most people’s taste, but wasn’t that what normal was? Buffy could handle suburbia. Buffy could love suburbia.

“Welcome to Sunnydale,” her mom exclaimed, giving Dawn a quick squeeze about the shoulders.

Buffy smiled and shut the front door of their new home. “It’s gonna be great.” What could possibly go wrong in a place as ordinary as this?

 

 

**...to be continued...**


	3. Welcome to Hellmouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dead body rocks Sunnydale, and newly arrived Buffy starts learning about the town's night life.

Honestly, she felt kind of bad for the kid. Chris Boals, as he’d introduced himself, was certainly handsome but seriously lacking in self-confidence. He was making up for it asinine bravado, but she thought the fact he’d managed the nerve to approach her at the Bronze at all was worth something.

And he looked _luscious_ , besides.

But now he was sneaking her through a window into Sunnydale High School. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a high school – let alone snuck in through the window. “You’re sure this is a good idea?” she asked, brushing herself off a bit, “Coming to your school?”

“I graduated,” he pointed out, “And there’s nobody here. I just want to show you this spot on top of the gym – you can see the whole town.”

“I don’t want to go up there,” she shook her head, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Yeah, we are,” a smirk spread across his face. He leaned in for a kiss, but she jerked her head away at a distant sound. A howl?

“I heard something,” she announced, “Hang on.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replied.

No, of _course_ he didn’t. “I heard something,” she repeated, listening.

“Spooky,” he teased. Okay, so he was an idiot. At least she only had deal with him for this one night. She shot a glare at him that would have frozen the fires of Hell. He got the hint. “I’ll check it out.”

He poked his head out the door of the classroom and called out “Hello?” When no one answered, he returned to her and took her hand in one of his. “I’m absolutely sure we’re the only ones here. Relax, we’re gonna have fun.”

“Oh, I am already,” Darla replied, pulling her hand back and then swiftly sinking her fangs into his neck.

* * *

Buffy’s eyes snapped open. Another nightmare. She’d been plagued by them since she fell asleep Friday night – making what had already been a long weekend seem even longer. She was certain they were nerves; even as optimistic as she was about Sunnydale she knew she was uneasy for so many reasons. Being the new kid was never easy.

A moment later, the alarm clock went off. It was followed almost instantly by the sounds of her mother’s voice. “Buffy? Are you up? You don’t want to be late your first day!”

School. That was the thing she was most nervous about. “No, that would be terrible,” Buffy muttered flatly before rising from bed and making her way into the shower. Once she emerged from the bathroom, she headed down to the kitchen and into the hubbub of the brand new home.

There were still boxes that needed to be unpacked in what seemed like every corner of the home – her own bedroom was no exception – but the kitchen had more than seemed reasonable. In one corner, the stack of boxes reached the same height at the refrigerator Dawn was complaining, loudly, at needing to be rousted from bed so early, and their mother was rolling her eyes, as she poured what was clearly not her first cup of coffee. “I told you Dawn, I need you up because I am not making two trips this morning. I have to go see my gallery space.”

Maybe quiet hadn’t been the perfect word to describe Sunnydale. After all, they’d brought their main source of noise pollution with them.

“Buffy,” her mother turned to her imploringly, “This is going to be a great day, right? And I know you’ll make friends right away! Just… promise me something?”

“We’re not even there yet,” Buffy protested, “I haven’t even _seen_ the building!”

“Promise me you won’t get kicked out.”

Oh. That. “I promise.”

* * *

Willow had been furious with her gang of friends Friday night. All of Saturday too. She had no idea what had happened to Scott, whatever had come over him that seemed to make him so dangerous, or why no one else seemed as completely thoroughly surprised by it as she was.

But Scott had told them he’d been having anger issues, and they’d all completely blown it off. The extra day of weekend they’d had thanks to Martin Luther King Day had given her some time to think about it, and she’d determined that maybe she was as much to blame as anyone for ignoring Scott’s apparent cry for help.

When he sat down next to her on one of the stone benches in the Quad, she instantly apologized.

“What?” Scott raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” Willow repeated, “You told us you were having problems and I just ignored it. So, I’m sorry. And I’m not mad at you, and if you need to talk, I’ve got ears.”

Scott smiled – not a grateful smile, which was odd, but an almost… sympathetic smile. “I want to tell you what’s going on, Willow,” he told her, “But I can’t do it here. Too many people around.”

As if to prove his point, Stiles arrived at that exact minute. He stared warily at Willow. Finally, he spoke. “Hi.”

“We’re okay, Stiles,” she answered, “You can sit.”

Stiles obeyed, stiffly, as if somehow he expected the stone bench to come to life and devour him at Willow’s bidding. Once he was safely touched down on the seat, however, he relaxed considerably.

Moments later, Xander collapsed on the grass in front of them, completely out of breath. “Willow!” he exclaimed, staring up at her, “Exactly the perfect person!”

Willow beamed. “I am?”

“Yes!” Xander repeated, “I had a problem with the math.”

Of course it was something like that. She sighed. “What part?”

“The math,” Xander replied, “Can you give me some help tonight? Please?”

“What’s in it for me?” Willow could be a shrewd negotiator if it was called for, and this was certainly one of those times.

“I have a nickel?” Xander offered.

Willow shook her head. “I missed the Bronze on Saturday. We’re going tonight, and all the food is on you.” Granted, she’d missed it because she’d been so angry at her friends but, that hardly mattered when Xander was begging for help. This was a standard deal for them.

“Deal!”

“I just need you to check out _Theories in Trig_ before we meet up,” Willow instructed.

Xander gave her a blank look. “Check out?”

“From the library,” Willow explained patiently, “Where the books live.”

Jesse appeared at that moment, collapsing next to Stiles on a bench. “New girl!” he announced.

“I saw!” Xander sat up, suddenly reinvigorated, “Hot! Mega hot!”

Stiles perked up at this too. “Like how hot? Like a ten? Tell me everything you know about her!”

Jesse shrugged. “She’s new…”

* * *

Buffy felt like she had been sitting outside the principal’s office for an eternity. Her file lay on the desk – right behind the placard that read “Principal Robert Flutie”. A tiny cactus in a pot sat next to that. Otherwise, the desk was remarkably empty.

Tempted as she was to look at her file, Buffy refrained. She was absolutely not doing anything to get into trouble – and certainly not before her first class. She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair… waiting.

Finally, a man entered. Principal Flutie she had to assume, as he sat down in his chair and beamed at her. “Buffy Summers, formerly of Hemery High in Los Angeles! Quite a career!”

Buffy just nodded. She could only imagine what her transcripts said.

“Welcome to Sunnydale!” His utter cheerfulness was too much. It was like he’d eaten all of the Care Bears. “I don’t usually have this kind of a meeting with new students but I just wanted to assure you that here at Sunnydale, what’s past is past. We’re not interested in this…” He waved his hand at her file but seemed unable to find a pleasant enough word to describe them. “We strive to nurture the student,” he went on, “And in doing so, nurture ourselves.”

Buffy forced a smile back. This was, very possibly, the most frightening experience of her life.

He flipped open the folder with her name on it, glanced at it, and immediately returned his attention to Buffy – grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Another school would see this and focus on the remarkable decline in grade point average. But here, we look at the struggling _woman_ with the remarkable decline in grade point average. We see the reports of gang violence as an opportunity.”

“Mr. Flutie…” Buffy attempted to cut in.

He held up a hand. “All the kids here are free to call me Bob.”

“Okay, Bob…”

“But they don’t.”

“Mr. Flutie, I know that my transcripts are colorful…”

“Colorful? That’s the word you’re going with?” He was reading the file now. The expression on his face – really just his eyebrows – made it clear he’d only skimmed it before. “I think I might have gone with dismal. It’s alright, you haven’t taken your SATs yet! But, for future reference, dismal. Maybe even, abysmal.”

“It was not that bad,” Buffy protested.

“You burned down the gym,” Mr. Flutie pointed out.

Buffy nodded. There was really no denying that. The ancient vampire Lothos’ minions had filled the gymnasium, and she’d really been left with no other choice. “There’s more to that story,” she told the principal, “That gym was full of, uhm, asbestos.”

Mr. Flutie shook his head, that smile returning to his face. “You don’t need to explain yourself. This is Sunnydale, not a court of law! Another school might tell you to watch your step. They might warn you that if you so much as approached the gymnasium with a book of matches, you’d be under arrest so fast your head will spin. But this isn’t another school. We’re here to help you meet your needs, and just as importantly, to help your needs meet our needs. It’s all about teamwork here. So, if your needs and our needs aren’t able to mesh…”

He trailed off, closing Buffy’s file. “Would you like me to walk you to your first class?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I already have a map of the school.”

“I know a new school can be intimidating, let me walk you to your first class. I can introduce you to all of your new friends!” He seemed thrilled at the idea.

“Really, it’s okay. No, thank you,” Buffy rose to her feet. There was no way out of this, was there?

“Just wait for me outside my office for one moment,” Principal Flutie instructed, “I will be right there!”

* * *

Xander moved with the sea of students as the first bell signaled it was time to head to class. Despite the massive crowd, he could hardly miss the blonde hair moving away from the door to the Principal’s office.

The new girl.

As he was watching her – and probably holding up traffic of his own – Larry Blaisdell pushed past her. For once, Xander figured, he was probably being oblivious rather than being a jerk intentionally. Nevertheless, the new girl dropped her bag and the contents spilled out onto the floor. She dropped to her knees to try to collect her belongings.

Xander rushed to the rescue. “Can I have… er, help you?” he asked, kneeling down to help regardless.

‘Thanks,” she smiled at him.

“So, you’re new?” Xander asked, piling up an array of papers in his hands.

She nodded. “I’m Buffy. We just moved here.”

“Xander.” It wasn’t a full sentence, but Xander had already demonstrated the reason he really shouldn’t speak around attractive women. Open mouth, insert foot.

“Thanks for the help, Xander,” Buffy shoved the last of the loose papers and pens into her bag and stood.

“Maybe I’ll see you around at school,” Xander stammered, rising to his feet as well, “Since we both go. To school.”

Buffy smiled and turned to go. At that moment, however, Principal Flutie emerged from his office and exclaimed, “Here we go, Miss Summers! It’s History of Europe first, isn’t it?” Her shoulders sank as the principal cheerfully escorted her down the hall.

“We both go. To school,” Jackson’s voice mocked from behind Xander, “So smooth. So not pathetic. I am going to have try that line some time.” Jackson smirked and continued his own path down the hallway.

The crowd was thinning now as most of the students found their way into their classrooms – which is perhaps how Xander noticed that something was rolling between the feet of each student. It must have fallen from Buffy’s bag. When it came to rest against the opposite wall, Xander stepped over to it and picked it up.

Once it was in his hand, it didn’t take much time at all to figure out what it was. What Buffy might have been doing with a wooden stake, on the other hand, was entirely unclear.

* * *

Scott shook his head. There was no changing his mind on this, no matter how much Stiles insisted. This argument had begun almost as soon as Willow had headed off to her first class, and now continued in hushed voices as they had reached their own first period class. “I don’t know how Willow didn’t figure anything out,” he insisted, “But I could have killed her.”

“I shouldn’t have kept the wolfsbane,” Stiles argued, “Nothing like that is going to happen again.”

“I need to tell her,” Scott insisted, “It isn’t right not to. It’s dangerous.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Werewolves existing seems pretty dangerous for everyone if you ask me. But I don’t see you writing up a press release.”

“Willow’s been our friend for years,” Scott retorted, “She’s not an ‘everyone’, she’s Willow. I don’t want to keep any secrets from her, least of all one that could get her killed!”

“Boys,” Mr. Harris interrupted from the front of the classroom, “Is there something you want to share with the class?”

Stiles turned to Scott and raised his eyebrows. “Is there?”

* * *

The bell rang. Buffy was actually a little disappointed, for a history class this had actually been fascinating. At first she’d felt seriously unprepared, but the girl sitting next to her had offered to share her textbook and afterwards it was smooth sailing.

“We’re doing the Black Plague tomorrow,” the teacher announced as the students stood up to leave, “It want you to read the chapter tonight. You don’t have to answer the questions at the end of the chapter, they’re terrible.”

“They would never have said anything like that at Hemery,” Buffy said, impressed.

“Heremy High, in Los Angeles?” the girl asked.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, I just transferred from there.”

“No kidding! I would kill to live in Los Angeles,” the girl exclaimed, “That close to that many shoes! Why did you come here?”

“My mom moved,” Buffy explained simply. If she was going to make any friends, that had to be the official explanation.

“Well, you’ll be fine here,” the girl said reassuringly, “I’m Cordelia. Jus hang with me and mine and everything will be great. We are absolutely the best people in this school.”

“Thanks,” Buffy smiled, “I’m Buffy.”

“You’re gonna want to grab some of your textbooks today,” Cordelia advised, “I recommend the library. C’mon, I’ll walk there with you.”

The two walked and chatted, descending a staircase and heading down another hallway. Cordelia stopped at a water fountain, in use by a redhead in an outfit tha was clearly vintage.

“Willow!” Cordelia said, unleashing a vicious barb, “So the last time you went shopping was, what, the 50’s?”

Buffy was stunned. This was the same girl who was helping her get her textbooks.

“My mom picked it out,” Willow explained, turning from the water fountain. She was attempting to sound defiant, but it wasn’t quite working out.

“Explains so much about your love life,” Cordelia quipped, “Are you hydrated yet?”

Willow’s mouth worked for a second, but no sound came out. After another moment, she beat a hasty retreat down the hall.

Cordelia bent down and took a quick drink from the water fountain as though nothing unusual had happened at all. “The first rule of Sunnydale,” she explained afterwards, resuming the walk to the library, “Is to know your losers. It should only take a couple of weeks to know them by sight, but it helps a lot. That Willow? Super smart, which can come in handy, but otherwise avoid at all costs.”

* * *

Cordelia did not go into the library with Buffy – though she did invite her to join her and her friends at a club called the Bronze that night. They parted ways and Buffy entered the library.

It was much darker than the rest of the school. There was a few dark lamps on tables, and a glow from the row of computers at one end of the room. It took Buffy’s eyes a few minutes to adjust.

And when they did, she didn’t seem to see anyone there. “Hello?” she called out.

A hand touched down on her shoulder. “Can I help you?”

Buffy spun around – resisting the urge to go into fighting stance. It wasn’t a vampire. It was just a stuffy looking guy with a British accent. “I was looking for some books, I’m new.”

“Miss Summers,” the librarian guessed.

“Must be the only new kid,” Buffy nodded.

The librarian inclined his head and introduced himself. “I’m Mr. Giles, the librarian, and I know precisely what you need.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. I especially need the history textbook. We have to read the chapter on the Black Plague by tomorrow and I’m like—“

Mr. Giles, as she spoke, had walked to his desk. He lifted a book from a drawer underneath, cutting Buffy off. The word _VAMPYR_ was emblazoned on the front cover. “This is what you need.”

“Definitely not what I need,” Buffy shook her head, “Way, incredibly not.”

The librarian looked down to put the book away and Buffy took the opportunity to escape.

* * *

“I mean, really? What kind of a name is Buffy?” Aphrodesia complained as the trio of Cordettes entered the girls locker room. Aphrodesa – or Desia to her friends – always complained about new students. Lydia had put the kibosh on that pretty quickly when it came to Allison, but she hadn’t met this Buffy yet and wasn’t about to step on her friend’s toes twice in a row.

Aura, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms. “Yeah, Aphrodesia, what a weird name Buffy is.” The sarcasm was practically visible.

“Why is she here, anyone know?” Lydia wondered aloud.

Aura jumped in again, “I heard she got kicked out of her old school. Her mom had to move, get a new job, just so Buffy could go to school somewhere that would take her in.”

“Must’ve been something awful,” Desia added, “She’s bad news.”

Aura concurred, “Blue saw the transcripts, she totally—“

Lydia had moved on in her mind, barely paying any attention while she opened her locker. The other two kept babbling until the door of Lydia’s locker jerked open and something large fell out at her. All three girls screamed.

A body. There had been a dead body in Lydia’s locker.

* * *

Willow was probably the only member of their little gang who still brought a packed lunch, but it was one of the few things her mother still did for her. Even if it was more out of habit than anything. And her mother often paid so little attention while she did it that one time the plastic sandwich box was completely empty, and Xander had bought two lunches so he could share with her.

Scott and Stiles were – as usual – way ahead of Jesse and Xander. It had something to do with neither one really liking the school food, Stiles had told her, so they didn’t take nearly as much as their friends.

Allison had joined them as well – even though several Cordettes had attempted to call her to their table in the cafeteria. “I want to sit with my boyfriend today,” she’d told them. The Cordettes had rolled their eyes, but after Scott’s now legendary performance in the lacrosse game Saturday night, none of them actually said anything.

Willow thought that was sweet, and said as much. Allison had blushed, and Scott had quickly changed the subject to Willow’s computer class. Predictably, Willow gushed about Ms. Calendar’s latest lesson.

The tirade was interrupted with another arrival at their table. Totally unexpected. “Hi, Willow, right?” It was the new girl – the blonde that Cordelia had been with earlier.

Willow looked up at her. “We always sit here,” she explained, “I’m sorry, I’m not moving.”

Buffy crinkled her forehead. “Yeah. Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Buffy. I just want to ask you a favor that has nothing to do with moving, but I will need you to hang out with me.”

“Aren’t you hanging out with Cordelia?” Willow reminded her.

Buffy looked even more confused. “I can’t do both?”

“It’s usually frowned upon,” Stiles offered helpfully, “Usually by Cordelia.”

Buffy slid into the seat next to Willow. “Look, I am already way behind in all my classes, as it turns out. And I really want to not flunk all my classes. Even Cordelia says you’re the one to talk to about that.”

“Willow’s been a big help to me,” Allison mentioned, “I’m new too.”

Willow grinned proudly. “I have sixth period free,” she suggested, “If you do too, we could meet up in the library—“

“No,” Buffy interjected hastily, “Place weirds me out.”

“Me too,” Allison agreed.

“Almost everyone actually,” Stiles added.

Willow shrugged. “I love it. And I think the new librarian is really cool.”

“He’s new?” Buffy seemed especially unhappy about that information.

“He used to be the curator at a British museum, Willow explained, “But he knows so much about everything. And he brought this whole collection of old books and I’m really boring all of you, aren’t I?”

“No, of course not!” Buffy was not, as it turned out, much of one for lying.

“Can we interrupt?” Xander’s voice interrupted. Stiles and Scott looked instantly grateful. “I’m kidding, you don’t get a choice, we’re interrupting.”

Jesse and Xander both sank into seats. “Hi, I’m Jesse!” the former introduced himself. He turned to introduce Xander, but Willow cut him off.

“So rude of me!” she exclaimed, “This is Scott. That’s Allison – she’s new too. That’s Stiles… you know Jesse, now. And that’s Xander.”

“We met,” Xander told them, “By the way, I think you’ll need this for your very tiny fence that you must be building.” He reached into an open pocket of his backpack and withdrew a wooden stake.

Buffy snatched it from his hand. “Oh, thanks! Yeah, uh, everyone L.A. uses these for self-defense. It’s all the rage.”

Despite the speed with which the exchange happened, Stiles’ brain and imagination had quickly spun into overdrive. Willow had learned to tell the signs over the years. “So,” he said, thinking he was being subtle, “Tell us about yourself. Everything. Have a tragic, dark past? Or anything?”

“Are these people bothering you?” Cordelia’s voice cut in.

“She is not hanging out with us,” Willow attempted to cover for her newfound friend.

Willow shrank back from Cordelia’s withering glare, but Jesse – never one to miss an opportunity for Cordelia to reject him, leaned in towards her. “Hello Cordy!”

Cordelia ignored him, except to put her hand out in front of his face as though putting up some kind of invisible wall. “I hate to interrupt a good social suicide in progress, but I wanted to make sure you knew our gym class was canceled, Buffy.”

“Social suicide?” Allison wondered, “We’re sitting with the star of the lacrosse team.”

“Why was gym canceled?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, the dead guy in Lydia’s locker,” Cordelia answered, as if I was the most obvious thing in the world. “I knew you guys were losers but I figured gossip like that couldn’t slip by even you guys.”

“Dead guy?” Allison repeated, “Does that happen here a lot?”

“Way dead,” Cordelia nodded.

“Not just a little dead? Marginally dead?” Xander’s attempt at humor was met with glares from all sides.

“Do you need a shoulder to cry on?” Jesse asked, moving still closer to the Queen Bee of the Cordettes.

“Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?” she groaned.

“How did he die?” Buffy asked, “Were there marks?”

“Was he all in one piece?” Scott added, “Or like, how many pieces?”

“Was there blood?” Buffy continued.

“Whoa there, morbid,” Cordelia shook her head, “I didn’t ask.”

Buffy leapt up from the table, “I have to go.”

Cordelia watched her leave then turned to the others. “What is her deal? Wow.”

Scott stammered for an excuse to leave the table as well. “Gotta hit the head,” he finally managed.

Cordelia stared after him as well, then walked away muttering, “You guys are getting even weirder.”

* * *

Principal Flutie was standing right outside the girls locker room, staring at his watch. Buffy could already tell this was not going to go the way that she hoped.

“Buffy, your gym classes for the day have been canceled,” he informed her.

“I heard,” she replied, “Is there a dead guy in there?”

Mr. Flutie sighed. “Yes, but he is not currently a student and we’ve had inspections. I am fairly certain that there are no grounds for a lawsuit.”

“How did it happen?” Buffy questioned, “Was there a lot of blood? Was there any blood?”

“I would think you wouldn’t want to get involved in this sort of thing, Miss Summers,” Mr. Flutie said. It was not what one would call a subtle warning.

One last ditch effort then. “Could I take a peek?”

Mr. Flutie just blinked at her. “I know you probably have a lot of confusing feelings right now, Miss Summers. And what you need is share those feelings. With someone else.”

Buffy relented, smiling weakly and turning around. She’d barely made it around the first corner when she slammed into Scott. “Are you following me?”

“No,” Scott hissed, shushing her, “I’m trying to see the body. Just like you, apparently. There’s a door outside, it might be unlocked.”

* * *

It wasn’t. Scott stared forlornly at the padlocked door. If he had more control over his abilities, he might be able to break it open – but not with Buffy standing right beside him. “Maybe there’s an open window?” Scott suggested, “Do you want to look around?”

“Why are you so keen on seeing this body?” Buffy asked, not for the first time.

Scott sighed. “I just need to see it, stop asking me, alright?”

“I’ll look at the windows,” Buffy said, obviously exasperated.

As soon as her attention was elsewhere, Scott pulled on the lock with as much strength as he could muster. The lock did not budge. He tried again. Nothing. Now he was getting frustrated. How could Derek claim the bite was a gift if all it did was get him in trouble, and never helped him when he needed it? Trouble like how Derek was trying to kill him and was possibly leaving bodies in lockers as a warning.

The lock snapped.

“Got it,” he announced, pulling open the door.

Buffy stared at the broken lock in his hand. “You broke the lock with your bare hands?”

Yeah, something like that would draw attention. “It was… rusty?”

Buffy stared at him. “Right. We’ll go with that, I guess.”

* * *

Scott really hoped breaking into a crime scene wasn’t something he was going to make a habit out of – Buffy, however, seemed completely comfortable with this. One reason he’d asked her to go first. The other, of course, being that this was the _girl’s_ locker room.

Buffy was unnervingly stealthy about the whole thing. Scott followed, pressed against a wall like he was seeing her do. The place was almost more of a maze than the boys’ locker room but they managed to find the body – covered in a blanket.

Buffy lifted the blanket, exposing the body to both of them.

“He’s in one piece,” Scott exhaled in relief.

“You seem surprised,” Buffy observed, looking the body over. Scott noticed two marks on the neck – there was blood there, but not much. “This is just fantastic.”

“You don’t sound surprised,” Scott replied, “And that looks like a—“

“Don’t even say it.” Buffy stood and stormed back the way they had come from.

* * *

Fortunately, Scott had made it back to the cafeteria in time to finish eating and avoid too much suspicion from Allison. Buffy never went back to the cafeteria; no one asked if Scott had seen her. That all seemed to have worked out okay.

When the bell rang, Stiles grabbed Scott and pulled him aside. “You went and saw the body, didn’t you? Without me?”

“I did,” he nodded, “So did Buffy.”

“How many pieces is the body in? Did Derek kill this guy too?”

“One piece,” Scott said grimly, “Definitely not Derek’s handiwork. There’s two little holes in the neck and there isn’t blood.”

Stiles grimaced. “When I mentioned vampires last week, I was completely kidding.”

“Buffy was not at all surprised,” Scott added, “She didn’t seem surprised when I broke the lock either.”

“So we have a mystery new girl and two killers now,” Stiles groaned, “On top of everything else.”

Scott quipped, “I think we just need a partridge in a pear tree and we can make this into a song.”

* * *

Xander examined the shelf of math books. _Theories in Trig_ had to be around here somewhere. Scanning each title was taking forever, but he was sure he’d find it. He was glad he’d bailed early on lunch to look for it though, even if he didn’t get to find out what was up with Scott or Buffy.

“What is going on here?” Buffy’s voice demanded. It was like thinking about her had summoned her from nowhere.

Xander stopped and looked around. Where had she come from? Was she talking to him? Rising into an almost-standing crouch, he peered through the bookcase. No, she was definitely talking to the librarian.

“Beg your pardon?” Mr. Giles asked.

“You heard about the dead guy,” Buffy wasn’t asking. She clearly already knew he had. “Damnedest thing, he has two holes in his neck and all his blood is drained. How crazy, right?”

Mr. Giles seemed completely unphased. Buffy, for that matter, was considerably more sarcastic than she was surprised. Both of them obviously knew something Xander really, really did not. “I was afraid of that,” the Englishman heaved a sigh.

“I wasn’t,” Buffy replied, “I was mostly worried about being behind in my classes. Completely terrified I wouldn’t make any friends. Not at all worried there’d be vampires at my new high school. And, y’know what? I don’t care.”

Vampires? First werewolves, now vampires? This was all too much.

“If you don’t care,” Mr. Giles challenged, “Why are you here?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. He had a point.

Finally Buffy came up with a suitable retort. “To tell you that I don’t care. Mission accomplished, Buffy out.”

She turned to leave, but she stopped with Mr. Giles’ next question. “Did they sire him?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head, “There’s no blood anywhere near his mouth. If he were going to become a vampire, he would have needed to drink some vampire blood as he was dying. That’s how it works. They suck your blood, you suck their blood, it’s a gigantic suckfest. This one’s just drained.” She paused then tacked on, “Why am I still having this conversation?”

“Your being here is not a coincidence,” Mr. Giles ignored her final question, “You have a purpose here.”

Xander had to admit, he was kind of wrapt by this entire conversation even if it was utterly terrifying, none of his business, and completely out of his realm of understanding.

“Just leave me alone,” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“I can’t. You’re the Slayer,” Mr. Giles stated this very intensely. Buffy didn’t respond at all, she just stood – frozen. The phrase must have had some serious meaning behind it, though Xander could only think of the band.

The librarian continued, “Into every generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires—“

“To stop the spread of their evil, blah blah blah,” Buffy was back to her full sarcasm, “I’ve been there and done that, and I’m done.”

Mr. Giles seemed confused – this was a new look Xander had yet to see on him. It made him seem somewhat more human, which was nice. “You don’t know anything about this town, do you?”

“It’s got a high school with a spooky library and a really annoying librarian,” Buffy snipped, “That sums it up, right?”

“This is an area of mystical convergence,” Mr. Giles explained, “Things are drawn here. Supernatural things.”

“Vampires,” Buffy concluded.

“Among other things,” he corrected her, “Everything you’ve ever dreaded under your bed and told yourself couldn’t be by the light of day.”

Buffy tilted her head. “I see. I watched the Twilight Zone marathon this weekend too. Well, I had it on in the background while I unpacked. But, ignoring that, I’m a _Vampire_ Slayer. I don’t do those other things. In fact, I don’t even do that anymore. You could go kill them, though.”

“I haven’t the skill,” Mr. Giles countered, “I’m a Watcher.”

“It’s not complicated,” Buffy argued, “Stake through the heart. Sunlight. Very simple.”

Mr. Giles shook his head. “The Slayer slays. The Watcher—“

“Watches.”

“Yes… no! He prepares her—“

Buffy was not at all waiting for the librarian to finish whatever rationalization he was making. “There is no preparing for any of this. Being the Slayer cost me my friends. I got expelled from my old school. My parent…” Buffy seemed to lose her train of thought for a minute. “You can’t prepare me. So, I guess your work is done.”

Buffy started walking out, but Mr. Giles stopped her again – this time putting a hand on her shoulder. “Things are getting worse. You are here for a reason. You are here _now_ for a reason.”

“Yes, because now is when my mom moved here,” Buffy’s quipped although a bit half-heartedly compared to her previous barbs.

“Something is going to happen here, and soon,” Mr. Giles warned, “Something very evil.”

“In a place called Sunnydale?” Buffy wondered aloud, “How bad an evil can there possibly be?” Xander had to admit that she raised a good point.

* * *

“Vampires.” Jesse’s face was completely impassive. He was lounging casually across the foot of Stiles’ bed. Even talking about a dead body shoved in a locker nothing could really stress Jesse out – nothing except girls anyways.

Stiles nodded emphatically. “Yes. Vampires.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jesse shrugged, “We’ve got werewolves. I bet the world is filled with countless monsters. I’d bet we’ve never even heard of some of them.”

“That was comforting,” Stiles groaned, “I mean, I’d just like to be prepared in case one comes after us.”

Jesse rolled onto his stomach and lifted himself up onto his elbows. “I think we should tackle one supernatural problem at a time. Scott, werewolf. Let’s handle that first.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Scott appeared in the door to Stiles’ room. “Deaton let me out of work early,” he announced – instead of greeting them. “Where’s Xander?”

“Studying with Willow,” Jesse said glumly, “I said I’d meet him at the Bronze afterwards though. You guys should come.”

“It’s probably my best chance to tell Willow what’s going on,” Scott nodded, “Speaking of which… what do we think about that body?”

“We think we need to make sure you’re in control of your powers,” Stiles announced, as though it had been his idea to begin with. “You could smell the body in the morgue. You didn’t kill Allison on Saturday. And today you broke that lock. So, we’re heading in the right direction.”

“Not fast enough,” Scott shook his head, “I need a way to find an anchor without Derek. Cause, y’know, he wants to kill me.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “He’s a werewolf in total control, right? If he wanted to kill you, wouldn’t you be dead?” Stiles and Scott stared at him – he had a very good point and both of them were suddenly realizing it. Nonchalantly, he added, “So anyone else want food? Taco Bell?”

* * *

The sunken, buried church wasn’t the best lair Darla had ever stayed in, but it also wasn’t the worst. Over the last decades, she’d grown comfortable there. She had never grown comfortable with the useless religious rituals of the other vampires cohabiting the church with her.

Now, however, she joined them. The time had come. The pool of blood – where the altar had once been when this was a hallowed Christian place of worship – was bubbling dramatically. The prison was growing weaker.

And so she chanted with the rest of the. “The Sleeper will awaken. The Sleeper will awaken. The Sleeper will awaken and the world will bleed.”

Luke – not quite the oldest vampire in the assembly but certainly the largest, physically anyways – stepped towards the pool of blood and knelt reverently.

And then he rose. The Master. Ancient beyond knowing, he no longer had a human guise to hide his vampiric nature. As vampires aged, their faces grew more severe and eventually grew permanent. There was little trace that the Master had ever been human – his bald head glistened as the blood he had been submerged beneath ran down the ridges and bumps around his eyes and forehead. He ran his tongue over his permanently extended fangs.

Oh, yes, the world _would_ bleed.

* * *

“Dawn!” Buffy shouted from her bedroom, staring at her collection of jewelry, “Dawn, where are my silver earrings?”

“Which ones?” Dawn’s voice echoed back.

Buffy sighed. “The ones I let you borrow last week?”

“I gave them back to you!”

“I don’t have them!” Buffy argued, “Where are they, you little—“

“Maybe they’re still packed,” their mother interrupted serenely, “You have boxes all over the place with things still in them. Where are you off to tonight?”

“Got invited to a club by a girl I met at school,” Buffy explained.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Will there be boys there?”

“No, mom, it’s a nun club,” Buffy smirked.

Her mother, wisely, decided not to stay on that particular subject for too long. “So you made a friend today?”

“Possibly,” Buffy replied, with some thought, “Possibly several?”

“Good,” her mom beamed, “I had a good day too, I think the gallery is off to a good start. I really think it’s going to work out here, Buffy.”

And so they were back in the land of serious conversations. Buffy awkwardly twirled a strand of hair around a couple of her fingers. “Yup,” she said simply, in a tone that seemed somewhere between “please let this conversation end” and “please let the Earth swallow me whole”.

Her mom continued, oblivious. “I mean, I know it’s hard – your family changed, you moved, new school… but we can make this work. We’re going to. You’re a good girl, Buffy, you just made some mistakes.”

“Mom.” Really, this couldn’t end soon enough.

This time, her mother got the message conveyed by Buffy’s tone. “Oh, am I overnurturing?” she seemed mortified, “I know, you’re not supposed to overnurture at your age. I think maybe that was part of the problem in L.A., don’t you? From now on, just let me know if you feel overnurtured, okay?”

“Mother.”

“Right. Sorry. Have fun tonight!” Buffy didn’t know when she’d ever been so glad to see her mother leave.

* * *

One of the perks of her Slayer abilities was that walking from her home in a suburban neighborhood to the “downtown” area of Sunnydale – which to be fair was an entirely downhill walk and was really only a couple of miles – wasn’t too long. Nevertheless, the sun had set by the time she was really looking for which way to go. It was kind of eerie how quickly the sun had vanished, actually.

Something else was setting off the warning bells in her head, however. She turned to look behind her – there were several people on the street. Most were walking places, or getting into cars parked on the side of the road.

But one man caught her eye. He was a fair distance behind her but he was standing perfectly still. Maybe it was paranoia, but he seemed to be staring at her.

Well, there was one way to get to the bottom of this. She turned to her left and headed into an alley between two shops. It was creepier than she’d expected – steam pouring up from a grate in the street. The one light at the end of the alley flickered ominously and then went out entirely.

The quick look before it went dark was enough to give Buffy an idea of what strategy she wanted to use, if the man was indeed watching her.

And lo and behold, her instincts hadn’t failed her. The man turned into the alley. Without a moment’s hesitation she dropped from her perch – a pipe that ran across the entrance to the alley – landing squarely behind him and rushing him. She spun him to face her and shoved him into one of the brick walls that lined the alley.

“Why are you following me?” she demanded.

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Relax. I don’t bite.” It wasn’t quite the reaction she’d expected but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook either. “I thought you’d be bigger, but I’m impressed all the same.”

Oh, good. Someone else in town knew who she was and wanted to push her to fulfill her destiny. “Whatever you want, forget it.”

“I want to kill them all,” the man assured her, “Same as you. But I also wanted to give you a gift.”

Buffy sighed and released her hold on the man. “That’s not what I want. I want to be left alone. To have a normal life.”

The stranger chuckled. “The mouth of Hell is about to open. The Harvest comes. No one gets to have a normal life. Just take this.” He withdrew a jewelry box from a pocket of his leather jacket and held it out to her.

Buffy definitely didn’t trust this man, but what could the harm in seeing what was in the box be? She took it from him, never taking her eyes off of him until she opened the box. A silver cross necklace on a silver chain. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“I don’t want any friends.” That was a lie, but she certainly didn’t want to be friends with creepy cryptic stalker boy – even if he was kind of handsome, now that she was really looking at him. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall. Firm jaw. She hated him.

“I didn’t say I was your friend.”

Buffy turned her attention back to the necklace for a moment, closing the box and putting it in her purse. When she looked up, the man was gone.

* * *

The Bronze would have been a cool club by anyone’s standards – at least, Willow thought so. There was almost always a live band but even when there wasn’t – like tonight – the music was great. You could dance to it, but at the same time it made excellent background music while you sat in the lounge area or played pool. The second floor, too, was basically a balcony that surrounded the dance floor so you could simply watch what everyone else was doing. It helped, however, that they let in basically anyone – any age. They just stamped your hand if you weren’t old enough to drink and called it a night.

Willow had found a table in the corner of the lounge. Xander had gone home after they studied to change clothes, but he assured her he’d be there soon. Scott had already called her to let her know that he was going to be arriving with Xander any minute. Stiles and Jesse had arrived – apparently Scott had ditched them to change out of the clothes he’d worn to work. Something about “smelling like a dog”, which she could understand. Stiles was getting sodas from the whole group, while Jesse looked around for anyone else they knew. Willow knew he was talking about Cordelia, of course, the only other one of their friends who would ever want to be at the Bronze was Amy and she’d barely been speaking to them since they returned from winter break for reasons none of them understood, but apparently had something to do with her mom being even stricter than usual.

As such, Willow was completely shocked when Buffy slid into the seat next to her. “Hi!” she said enthusiastically.

Willow stammered a greeting and then added, “I can’t really tutor you right now.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can’t really be tutored right now. We’re at a club. Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah,” Willow nodded, “My friends are, uhm, around. Places. Here. Except Xander and Scott but they’ll be here soon.”

“You hang out with all these boys, you must be dating one of them!” Buffy leaned in, clearly looking for all the juicy details about Willow’s love life. She was _so_ barking up the wrong tree.

Willow just shook her head. “Nope. Uhm, I used to date Xander. But we broke up.”

“It’s so cool that you guys managed to stay friends,” Buffy said, a goofy grin appearing on her face, “Why’d you break up? Do you mind me asking?”

“No, it’s fine,” Willow replied, “He, uhm, he stole my Barbie.” Buffy’s grin disappeared – she seemed simultaneously confused and concerned. “Did I mention we were five? I don’t date a lot.”

“Why not?” Buffy exclaimed, “Look at you, girl! You’ve got that fiery redhead hotness going for you!”

“You think?” Willow blushed, “I just have trouble talking to boys. And I think that boys like it when girls can, y’know, have a conversation.”

“Most of them think talking is way overrated, to be honest,” Buffy smirked, “We’re gonna get you a guy, okay?”

“I think it’s probably easier for you than it’s gonna be for me,” Willow shook her head.

Buffy’s whole demeanor drooped. “It’s not easy for me.” There was a moment of awkward silence, then Buffy perked up. “I do have a philosophy that helps though – ready? Life is short, seize the moment. It’s not very original but it’s very true. I don’t worry about if some guy is gonna laugh at me, because tomorrow I could be dead. Seize the moment.”

Willow rolled her words around in her mind. “Seize the moment, huh? I could try that out, I think.”

Buffy was distracted – however – staring up at someone on the balcony. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“You don’t have to come back,” Willow answered, “I know Cordelia invited you out, this was nice of you though.”

“Willow,” Buffy grabbed her by the arm reassuringly, “I am going to be _right_ back.” And then she took off.

* * *

Jesse finally spotted her. He moved in, approaching her almost reverently. “Cordelia!” That was possibly not the smoothest greeting he could have come up with, it had slipped out without his meaning to say it.

“Joy,” Cordelia intoned coldly, turning from the seat she was using as a throne. Other Cordettes surrounded it – Cordelia was holding court. “It is my stalker. Let us celebrate.”

Jesse was not intimidated. Not today. Somehow, knowing that he might at any minute be slain by some bizarre, unholy monstrosity had given him more courage than he’d felt in his whole life. And he was going to use that courage to fulfill the very first item on his bucket list – dance with Cordelia. “You look fantastic, Cordelia.”

“Listen, I’m so glad we had this talk—“ Cordelia began.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Cordelia stopped for a moment and stared at him. “With… with you?”

Jesse nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”

“No.”

Okay, that hadn’t gone quite as planned. Jesse turned away. At the very least, he figured, he was going to dance with _someone_ tonight. Maybe that would even raise his cool quotient enough that Cordelia would dance with him tomorrow night.

* * *

“So, Giles,” Buffy opted not to actually greet the librarian. Or use any kind of respectful language. He was out of school, this was the territory of the kids. She wanted him to know exactly what she thought of that. “Partying with the students. That’s kind of skanky. I didn’t know you Watcher types had it in you.”

He didn’t react at all to her attitude except to glumly observe, “This is about the opposite of fun for me, but I reasoned you might be here.”

“And you have to tell me all about the Harvest,” Buffy finished, “Your friend already gave me a heads up.”

“Friend? Harvest?” Giles seemed confused. That was never going to get old.

“This guy – dark, gorgeous but like super annoying and creepy,” Buffy described, “I figured he had to be your friend because he definitely wasn’t mine. Anyways, he said something about ‘the Harvest’ and something about ‘the mouth of Hell’. He was very annoying.”

Giles fell into a thoughtful silence, watching the kids below dancing. “Look at them. Completely unaware of the true dangers of the world.”

“I’m jealous,” Buffy quipped.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Giles went on, ignoring her, “It wouldn’t be the first time portents were misinterpreted. Perhaps there is no danger here. It is not as though you’ve been having the nightmares.”

The color drained from Buffy’s face. “Right, no nightmares.” Just every night since she’d arrived in Sunnydale.

* * *

 “Look at her!” Jesse clapped Stiles on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy,” a startled Stiles replied, struggling not to drop any of the drinks he’d just – finally – managed to get from the bartender. Why the bartender wanted t to see his ID for two Cokes and a Sprite was beyond him entirely. It’s not like his hand wasn’t stamped already.

“Just use your eyes,” Jesse urged, pointing out towards the dancing crowd. “She’s perfect. I mean, she’s no Cordelia but…”

Stiles saw her too. And Jesse was not wrong – the woman was beautiful. She was dancing by herself, arms raised and hands flowing rhythmically over her head. Her shoulder length blonde hair whipped around her head as she moved, becoming something like a golden mane. When the moving lights of the dance floor hit her just right, she seemed to have a halo.

“I’m going to go say hello,” Jesse grinned, setting off into the swaying crowd.

“Good luck!” Stiles called after him, heading off towards the table they’d left Willow at. The apparently empty table they’d left Willow at. “I know these drinks took a while,” Stiles complained to no one in particular, “But when my attention span is longer than everyone else’s we have problems.”

* * *

“I mean, if I run into a vampire who is causing trouble I’m gonna slay him,” Buffy elaborated to Giles, “But, like, I’m not going to center my life around it. I want to do some other stuff too.”

“You have so much yet to learn about vampires, and your own powers,” Giles countered, “You will need training. Constant training. Vampires appear human until they intend to feed…”

“I know that,” Buffy cut him off, “Remember about how I’ve killed them before?”

“A Slayer should be able to detect them anyways,” Giles continued unrelenting, “Even here, now, if there was a vampire in this building, you should be able to spot them. Hone your senses. Focus every particle of your being. Even all of this noise and dis—“

“There’s one,” Buffy pointed, “Look at that outfit. It hasn’t been updated since the ‘80s and this is no retro party.” The two stared down at the man in question – she was unquestionably right. And then he stepped sideways – revealing who he was talking to.

“Willow!” Giles and Buffy exclaimed simultaneously.

“What is she doing?” Giles wondered aloud.

Buffy was already on the move, but answered over her shoulder. “Seizing the moment.”

* * *

Xander was getting frustrated. “I can’t believe there’s a line on a Tuesday night when there’s no band,” he announced to Scott, “This is an outrage. I’m completely going to miss Jesse getting shot down by Cordelia, and there’s not going to be anyone there to pick up the pieces!”

“It’s the Bronze,” Scott replied calmly, “There is always a line. There’s nowhere else to go in the whole town.”

“There’s the Jungle,” Xander pointed out.

Scott chuckled. “Only if we were hanging out with Danny. I think Jackson’s head would explode if we started palling around with his best friend though.”

Xander grinned at the thought.

* * *

By the time Buffy had reached the place where she’d seen Willow, both she and the vampire had gone. Buffy headed for the nearest door, her hand inside her purse – wrapped around the wooden stake that Xander had, fortunately, returned to her at lunch.

As she passed through the doorway, there was a sudden movement to her left – Buffy leapt into action, pressing her assailant up against the wall, stake at the ready.

Her assailant, Cordelia. “What is your childhood trauma?” Cordelia shrieked, “Could you possibly have more weirdness?”

Buffy dropped her and stepped back. Of course, Cordelia was not alone. “Sorry. I was looking for Willow, have you seen her?”

“What did you need to attack her with a stick too?” Cordelia asked viciously, “Sorry, I can’t help you. I have to go Tweet this. Right now.”

Buffy was doing her best to ignore Cordelia’s cruel remarks – she was surveying the room she’d found herself in. It wasn’t an exit, just the way to the restrooms. Obviously not the way Willow and her “moment” had gone. Buffy retreated from Cordelia’s onslaught, back the way she had come and straight into Giles.

“That was a quick slay,” he commented, “I’ll head to the library. I want to look up this ‘Harvest’.”

“Yes, go,” Buffy said absently, “I didn’t find them.”

“He’s not dead?” Giles inquired nervously.

Buffy shook her head. “No, but my social life is. You go to the library, I’m going to find this vampire.”

“Do you need my help?” Giles offered.

“No,” Buffy replied, “I can handle one vampire on his lonesome.” 

* * *

 

Jesse couldn’t believe how close he was to this beautiful girl, dancing together almost like one person. “I just don’t know how I never saw you before,” Jesse said. It wasn’t the first time he’d said so; he was in complete disbelief.

“I’m visiting,” she said simply, “I have family here.”

“Right,” Jesse nodded, “What did you say your name was again?”

She smiled at him. “I’m Darla.”

* * *

The Master had been fairly impressed at how well he’d been preserved in pool of blood under which he had slept. The leather that adorned him was certainly no worse for wear.

But now, having been awake for hours, he’d found no food in sight. Just loads of doting vampires with nothing to offer. His hunger was profound, and though he was now awake he could do nothing to satiate himself.

“Luke!” he growled.

Luke knelt before him in response.

“I must feed,” the Master announced.

Luke nodded, “Yes, Master. Several of your servants are even now bringing food. And the Harvest comes. You will be fully restored then.”

“Excellent,” the Master smiled. The effect was terrifying, even for hardened vampires. “I do hope they’re young.”

* * *

“So, do you have Mr. Chomsky for History?” Willow asked, “I just can’t believe I haven’t seen you at school.”

Thomas – as he’d introduced himself – didn’t answer, just continued to lead Willow by the hand he was holding. She could hardly believe her luck. She could also hardly believe how nervous she was. It crossed her mind that she maybe she could have mentioned she was leaving to someone – but they were all pretty preoccupied without her. She was sure they weren’t worried.

“Are we going to the Inside Scoop, though? Because that’s on Hamilton,” she continued. She was officially blabbering.

“I know a shortcut,” Thomas replied.

“It’s a very dark shortcut,” Willow observed.

Thomas nodded. “It’s night. Traditionally, it’s dark then.”

“That’s very true,” Willow agreed. It was not, however, very comforting.

* * *

Buffy pushed towards the front door of the club. She had about two steps left to go before she was stopped – again. Xander and Scott had finally made it into the building, and were not too excited to see people leaving already.

“You’re leaving already?” Xander asked.

“Have you seen Willow?” Buffy demanded, ignoring his question.

“We haven’t even been inside yet,” Xander pointed out.

Buffy groaned. “I have to find her. She left with a guy.”

“Are you talking about our Willow? That we know?” Scott asked.

“Scoring at the Bronze,” Xander let out a low whistle, “Who knew?”

“Where would she go? I need to find her,” Buffy repeated.

Scott creased his forehead. “Why? What’s wrong with the guy?”

“Is he a vampire?” Xander asked sourly, “Because then you’d have to slay him, wouldn’t you?”

Scott looked nearly as surprised at Xander’s comment as Buffy was. “Was it in the newspaper?” Buffy exclaimed, “Does anyone in this town not know I’m a Slayer?”

“Like the band?” Scott asked.

“Look, I don’t know what your weirdness is,” Xander push on, ignoring them, “This Slayer thing. Whatever. We have our own weirdness to deal with, so leave us out of it.”

“My ‘weirdness’ as you call it is the only thing that can stop Willow from being tomorrow’s dead body,” Buffy snapped, “Where would she take a guy?”

“She wouldn’t,” Scott replied, “But I think I can probably sniff her out.”

“What?” Now Buffy was really surprised.

Xander shrugged and admitted, “Our weirdness is that Scott’s a werewolf.”

Buffy sighed as she followed them out of the club, “Why do they call it Sunnydale if _everyone_ is a creature of the night?”

* * *

“This shortcut doesn’t seem very short,” Willow observed, looking around at the cemetery she found herself in the middle of. Thomas seemed very intent on getting where they were going – which Willow was no longer certain was an ice cream shop.

Suddenly, he stopped – next to a mausoleum. The door was open – Willow couldn’t see anything inside except darkness. “Would ya look at that,” he mused, “Almost like an invitation.”

“I’m pretty sure the door to the Inside Scoop is way more inviting,” Willow said.

“Are you afraid?” Thomas said teasingly.

“Kinda, yeah,” Willow replied with absolutely no shame. She was certain virtually anyone would be terrified at this point. It didn’t seem to matter to Thomas – he shoved her inside.

Willow stumbled in the entrance, managing to catch herself from completely falling by throwing a hand out and grasping onto the stone tomb in the center of the room. From here, she could see the room a little better – the walls were covered in elaborate carvings. In the dark, she couldn’t quite make out what they were but they were certainly not comforting. “I think I’m gonna go back,” Willow said decisively, turning.

“I don’t think you are,” Thomas said. There was nothing nice about his voice now. He was absolutely, definitely threatening her. He had come in the mausoleum behind her. If she was going to leave, she was going to have to get through him.

Someone stepped into the mausoleum behind him. “Really?” a female voice quipped, “That’s what you brought? She’s so tiny.”

“She’s fresh and she’s young,” Thomas countered, “Did you do any better?”

“Of course,” the woman said proudly. She yanked someone in behind her. Willow would have recognized him anywhere – Jesse!

“Where we going, Darla?” Jesse said, clearly a little dazed, “I think you gave me a hickey…” He stumbled, careening into Willow. She caught him, locking her arms around him to keep him from falling as she almost had.

Darla shrugged. “I got a little hungry. But there’s enough of him to share.”

Willow’s eyes passed over Jesse’s neck. “You’re bleeding.”

Jesse – dazed as he was – understood immediately what Willow was telling him. “They’re vampires,” he whispered urgently, “We have to get out of here.”

 “That’s simply not happening,” Darla laughed.

Willow was incredulously. “Vampires?”

“Vampires,” Thomas nodded.

“How cozy!” another voice exclaimed. This mausoleum was not particularly large and it was starting to get crowded – but Willow was pleased to see this wasn’t another… uh… vampire. This was Buffy, the odd wooden stick from the cafeteria held firmly in her hand.

Buffy went on, striding confidently into the dark, stone room. Both vampires were focused entirely on her. “I mean, if you hired a really skilled decorate. Put some paint on the walls. You’d need some throw pillows, but hey! Call it home.”

“Throw pillows?” Darla was obviously astonished.

“They’ll help liven the place up, so to speak,” Buffy replied, “Also, they’ll help with the landing.”

“The landing?” Thomas echoed.

Without missing a beat, Buffy threw a high kick into his chest and he flew backwards into one of the ornate walls before crashing into the floor. “That landing.”

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Darla snarled – her face had changed. Willow couldn’t see much of it in the darkness but it definitely had become… lumpier.

“I am so relieved that someone doesn’t know already,” Buffy did not seem concerned by any of what was happening, “It’s really tough keeping a secret identity in this town. Nobody warned me about that before I moved here.”

Another voice – this time the incredibly familiar sound of Xander – chimed in from outside the tomb. “Buffy, can we… get them and get going?”

“Not yet,” Darla snapped, “They’re ours.”

Buffy wasn’t having any of this – she swung herself over the tomb that separated them and landed a kick in Darla’s face. “Scott, Xander, get them out now!”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice and although Xander did not enter the mausoleum quite so readily, he was not far behind. Willow did her best to head towards them, trying to bring Jesse with her. He was in absolutely no condition to walk on his own, he was barely staying conscious.

* * *

If he hadn’t known he was in over his head already, Scott was clued in quickly the moment he reached Willow and Jesse. The blonde vampire, rising from the floor, snarled at him. “A werewolf,” she hissed. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or hatred in her voice. It didn’t matter – she wasn’t done. She rounded on Buffy and added, “Maybe you should have let him do this.” She launched an attack.

Scott could tell Buffy was handling this pretty well on his own, and they had to get Jesse to a hospital – quickly. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but look back just for long enough to make sure it was Buffy’s fists he saw flying.

Jesse’s weakened state slowed them down considerably, even with their sheer terror making them rush. Xander offered to call the police or an ambulance on his cell phone, but Scott shook his head. “What would you tell them?” he pointed out, “I don’t think the police are gonna be able to handle vampires.”

“Does it really matter?” Xander countered, “We have to get him to a hospital.”

Willow jumped in at that point. “I think first we have to get all of us out of this graveyard.”

Ultimately, they decided it was probably better to call Stiles. Xander dialed his number, despite his shaking hands, and put him on speaker so he could talk to Scott – who was bearing most of Jesse’s weight.

“Where are you guys?” Stiles exclaimed as he answered, “I called you and neither of you answered!”

“Didn’t get it,” Xander replied, “We were busy. With vampires. And we need a ride.”

Scott was about to add in a comment of his own, but an unfamiliar voice cut him off. “Going so soon?” it hissed, “But the night is still so young.”

All four of them stopped in their tracks. Three vampires stalked towards them, blocking their retreat from the mausoleum.

* * *

The sound Darla made as she crashed into the floor, again, was pretty satisfying. “Who are you?” the vampire demanded. Now she was displaying the proper amount of fear.

“I’m still amazed you don’t know,” Buffy smirked, “Everyone else seems to.”

“I guess that’s the difference between us and them,” Darla replied – she seemed to suddenly regain her confidence.

“We don’t care,” a man’s voice finished.

Buffy felt two massive hands close around her throat and lift her bodily from the ground. Before she had a chance to react, she found herself coursing through the air. She slammed into the wall and landed on her back with a sickening thud.

The man turned his attention to Darla. “You had a mission,” he snarled, “You were to bring something for the Master to eat before the Harvest, and here you are wasting time with this tiny girl?”

“We brought two young ones,” Darla explained, “This one… she’s strong, Luke. She killed Thomas.”

“Just go,” Luke barked, “I’ll deal with this little brat.” And just like that, Darla raced from the crypt.

Buffy had hoped their conversation would last just a little longer, so she could have launched an offensive – all she had time to do before Luke attacked again was brace herself. Her grabbed her in both his arms, grappling her to the ground, but she curled and pushed him away from her with her feet, propelling herself to a standing, fighting stance.

“You are strong,” Luke gasped, rising to his own feet from his rather clumsy landing and circling the mausoleum like a wolf moving in for the kill, “But more than that, you’re wasting precious time.”

“I had plans tonight too,” Buffy quipped, keeping herself facing him at all costs.

* * *

“Back the way we came,” Scott announced. Willow and Xander spun, both moving faster than Scott had ever seen them.

But their return path was blocked too. Darla walked towards them with such a bouncy stride that it could be described as nothing short of a sashay. A terrifying sashay. “Miss me?” she cooed.

Scott pushed Jesse’s weight into Xander. If there was ever a time to shift, this was it.

He didn’t have time to think any more of it, for Darla had somehow closed the distance between them and grabbed a hold of his neck. She smiled at him. “Normally, we try to avoid fights with your kind,” she informed him, “But I couldn’t help but notice, you haven’t changed. Either you’re avoiding fights with us for some reason…” Her smile grew into an insidious grin. “Or you don’t know how. Either way, I think I’ve go the upper hand.”

Scott swallowed as much as he could with the vampire’s vice-like grip crushing his windpipe. “So you’re just gonna drain me?”

Darla giggled. “Don’t you wish I was going to end you so quickly?”

* * *

“You can’t stop us. You have no idea who we are. What we are.” Luke lunged – not for Buffy but for the stone lid to the tomb in the center of the room, shoving it at Buffy. She wasn’t expecting him to use props, but it wasn’t a hard one to avoid. She leapt into the air, avoiding the flying stone lid and coursing through the air at her foe. Her foot caught him square in the chest.

But the solid wall of muscles that he was, he only stumbled back a few feet. Buffy, of course, crashed to the ground. It was in that moment that he was on top of her. “I know what you are,” she groaned, pushing against his fists, “Vampire. Not big on garlic or point sticks.” With an almighty shove, she managed to free herself and roll from his grasp.

He chuckled. “More than that,” he smirked, spinning in his crouched position to attack again. Buffy was through messing around, however, and had her stake at the ready once more. She lunged.

He caught the stake in his fist and squeezed. It splintered into pieces. With a grin he began intoning words he’d clearly memorized. “And like a plague of boils, the race of Man covered the earth. But on the third day of the newest light will come over the Harvest, when the blood of Man will flow as wine, when the Master will walk among them once more, the world will belong to the Old Ones.”

He pressed closer to her, fangs ready to sink into her neck. “Amen.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people had commented when I was attempting to write this before that they'd hoped I was going to replace Angel with Derek. Anyone who enjoyed the second season of BtVS as much as I did, however, should understand why I couldn't just *not* have Angel.


	4. The Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy, Scott and their friends attempt to stop an apocalypse while dealing with a tragic loss.

Scott hit the ground with an audible thud. Xander grimaced.

“I think,” Darla mused, standing over the werewolf, “I’m going to break off each of your arms and then make you watch while the Master drains each of your friends. We might even turn them. And then they can finish you off.”

Xander cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. The other three vampires were – for the moment – staying put and watching this exchange as intently as he was. That was comforting… after a fashion anyways.

Willow suddenly gripped his arm. He followed her gaze back to Scott – whose eyes were suddenly glowing yellow. Darla took a step towards him, ready to attack – but Scott moved faster, his arm flashing out. Darla recoiled, letting out a surprised yelp.

Once she’d recovered from the surprise attack, she began circling the werewolf. He, shifted as much as he’d ever been, was poised to attack as well. “Should have left your friends out of it, I guess,” Darla observed coolly.

“Guess so,” Scott replied in a guttural voice that was not quite his own.

“Too late now,” Darla shrugged. She made a quick, fluid gesture with her hand. Xander barely had time to turn around before the three other vampires were on them.

* * *

Buffy closed her eyes as Luke’s face drew closer to her neck. He had her pinned against the floor; strong as she was, she certainly couldn’t struggle against his weight. At least she knew she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Luke reared back, hissing as smoke pored from around his mouth. Buffy still didn’t know who it was that had given her the silver cross in that alley, but she was grateful to him – and grateful she’d put it on. “I always practice safe necks,” Buffy smirked, slamming her foot up into Luke’s gut. He stumbled backwards, still in pain.

She was up on her feet again before Luke had recovered, ready to continue the fight despite her lack of a stake. And then she heard the scream. There wasn’t time – her friends were still in trouble.

* * *

Willow was cornered against the tree – two of the vampires had decided to go for her – the third had handily knocked out Xander, leaving both he and Jesse entirely undefended while Scott – or whatever it was Scott had become – and Darla continued their combat.

She was utterly helpless. A vampire lunged for her and Willow screamed again, closing her eyes.

Nothing happened.

She slowly opened one eye to find both vampires, eyes wide and looking utterly surprised. With no more warning than that, the one that had just tried to attack Willow exploded into dust. The other one took off at a run.

Buffy turned wordlessly and launched herself into another attack, interrupting the battle between Darla and Scott. Willow slowly pried herself from the tree and looked around.

Xander lay on the ground by himself. Willow raced to his side. Once she reached him, she could see he was still breathing – which was lucky. But Jesse was nowhere in sight. She glanced towards Buffy – Darla was taking off at a run, and Scott seemed to be circling Buffy now, growling.

“Scott, I’m your friend,” Buffy said calmly, “We’re friends. You don’t want to hurt me. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Scott leapt, but Buffy rolled to the side, avoiding him despite the speed of his attack. Scott rounded again, but before he could make another attack a figure appeared from behind the nearby tree and grabbed Scott by the collar of his shirt, lifting him into the air.

The figure’s face was obscured by shadow, but its eyes glowed an icy blue. When he stepped forward; Willow could see he too had lumps over his face and hairier sideburns than were natural, another werewolf. And a moment later she realized exactly who this werewolf was. She’d only seen him once recently, driving into his driveway while she and her friends hid. It was unmistakably Derek Hale.

He spoke quietly enough that Willow couldn’t make out exactly what he said to Scott, but both of them seemed to visibly relax. And then, Scott’s face changed – it shifted from its monstrous appearance to the one she was familiar with. Derek dropped him, and Scott collapsed on the ground.

“Where’s Jesse?” Willow called out, now that the battle seemed to be finished. Hesitantly, she left Xander’s side and approached the others.

Buffy stared around her in horror. “The ones that escaped...” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. “We have to find them.”

“You can’t,” Derek countered, “You’ll die before you find their lair.”

Buffy gave him a quizzical look. “I don’t know who you are,” she objected, “I barely know  _what_ you are. I’m not really looking for your input unless you can help.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “There is no help. There’s too many places for them to have gone, even I wouldn’t be able to track them in time. And, unlike Scott, I can control my gifts.”

“Well, I have to try,” Buffy protested.

“Gotta find a way in first,” Derek pointed out, almost smugly, “Good luck, Slayer.” And, clearly feeling that he had said his piece, disappeared behind the tree.

Buffy just stared after him. “Somehow, it’s just not surprising when people know who I am anymore,” she said after a moment.

Scott pushed himself up off the ground with a soft groan. Willow knelt down to help him to his feet. “I’m not really sure what just happened,” he moaned, “But we all survived?”

Neither Willow or Buffy answered his question. He nodded grimly, and a honk alerted them that Stiles had finally found them. The dark mood was contagious, and even Stiles was serious the instant he got out of his vehicle.

“We need to regroup,” Buffy said decisively, although her tone was anything but confident, “Stiles, can you take us to the high school? Giles is in the library and I think we need him.”

* * *

“I may need you to explain this again,” Stiles commented, staring at Giles.

Giles sighed. “Which parts?”

“All of it?” Xander offered, pressing an ice pack to the back of his head, “From the beginning.”

“Well, you must remember, all I have to go off of is what is written,” Giles replied, “But, from the human understanding of things… ages upon ages ago, immensely powerful demons ruled the Earth. Old Ones, we call them. According to our writings, as the Old Ones began to lose their hold over this reality, one of them infected humans. Creating the first vampires.”

“I had almost gotten my head around werewolves,” Xander groaned, “Now there’s vampires too? I’m… I mean, this is too much.”

Willow concurred, “I need to sit down.”

“You are,” Buffy observed.

Willow looked down, noted that she was, in fact, sitting in one of the wooden library shares, and gave a half-hearted smile. “Good for me.”

“So vampires are demons,” Stiles pressed on, “Not just undead bloodsuckers?”

“A bit of both,” Giles replied, “But they are certainly not human.”

Scott raised his hand, as though they were in some sort of class on the supernatural workings of the world. Giles nodded to him. “So, what is Buffy?”

* * *

 

“Is this all you could manage?” the Master roared, “This tiny thing that you have already tasted? Am I a dog you bring your scraps?”

Darla stepped back, suddenly afraid. His imprisonment had not improved his patience. “We had more but there was trouble…”

“A girl,” Luke jumped in, clearly hoping to quell the Master’s rage before it was directed at him, “She knew what we were. And she fought well. She was strong, too. I think she may be…”

“The Slayer,” the Master finished.

* * *

“What is that, exactly?” Xander asked. The others nodded their agreement to the question.

Giles smoothly segued into the explanation, as best as he knew how. “As long as there have been vampires, there has been the Slayer. One girl—“

“This is his favorite thing in the world,” Buffy smirked, “He is so excited that you asked.”

Giles cast a sidelong glance at her and instantly changed his tone. “She kills vampires. Buffy’s the Slayer. Don’t tell anyone. I think we’re done here. More than I’m probably permitted to tell you as it is.”

“We’re not done,” Xander objected, “How do we kill them?”

“You don’t,” Buffy answered, “I do.”

“But Jesse…”

“Is my responsibility,” Buffy cut Xander off, “It’s my fault he got taken.”

“That is not true,” Willow objected, “If you hadn’t come to rescue us, we all would be dead.” She paused. “We’d be dead. We almost died. Can I pass out? Am I allowed?”

Xander put an arm around Willow, trying – in vain – to calm her down. Meanwhile, Buffy turned her attention to Giles. “So, the big guy – Luke – that attacked me? He said something about the Master walking the Earth and the world belonging to the Old Ones. And he mentioned the Harvest too.”

Giles frowned. “I don’t know if this is something we should discuss with the unawakened in the room.”

“They’re awakened, Giles,” Buffy retorted, “And this is urgent.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles inquired.

Buffy shrugged, “It’s a stuffy British people word for when people know about the supernatural.”

“We’re called Watchers,” Giles interjected, “Not stuffy British people.”

“Stuffy British people,” Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Xander asked.

Giles scoffed. “I don’t think they would believe us.”

“If we said ‘bad people’ instead of ‘vampires’,” Willow suggested, “I mean, Stiles is the Sheriff’s son. The Sheriff knows Jesse. They could help.”

“All that would do is get Stiles’ dad killed,” Buffy shook her head, “They’ve just got guns, and those won’t stop a vampire.”

“Allison’s dad is a werewolf hunter,” Scott offered glumly, “Maybe he could help?”

“Wait, what?” Willow exclaimed, “Oh, I really liked you two together! But, yeah, not crazy about the whole star-crossed lovers thing…”

“Do we have any idea where they took Jesse?” Giles asked, making an effort to rein in the children.

Buffy shook her head. “I looked around, but as soon as they got clear of us, they could have just… _fwoosh_!” She emphasized the vampires’ escape by moving her hand in front of her.

“They can fly?” Scott asked, visibly startled.

“Drive,” Buffy corrected, “They can drive.”

“I didn’t see any other cars on the roads at all,” Stiles shook his head, “There’s only one way for a car to get into or out of that cemetery.”

“So…” Buffy pondered for a moment, “Underground? I mean, in Los Angeles the vampires love the sewers. And that other werewolf said he wouldn’t be able to track them, so I gotta think…” She paused, “I really didn’t see any sewer access in the graveyard though.”

“There’s electrical tunnels that run under the whole town,” Stiles suggested, “Those would be pretty maze-like, I bet vampires would love those.”

Giles pursed his lips. “We’d need some kind of map, but we don’t have time to go to the building commission.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Willow smiled weakly.

* * *

Jesse, groggy but awake, found he was tied in a dark cathedral. He wondered what time of night it was, or how he’d failed to notice this clearly massive church all his years growing up in Sunnydale.

What he did not fail to notice is that the room was full of monsters that absolutely had to be vampires – lumpy faces lined with ridges, two fangs glistening from their upper row of teeth. Definitely vampires.

And he was definitely alone with them

“She fought you and she lives,” the most horrific looking of them mused. He almost seemed like some kind of bat/human hybrid. Bald head, pointed ears, wrinkled nose. Even his fingers seemed almost claw-like. “That is almost proof enough that she is a Slayer. When was the last time someone fought you and lived, Luke?”

“1843,” a hulking, muscular giant of vampire replied. He must be Luke, Jesse reasoned. “Madrid. The bastard caught me sleeping.”

“You will not allow her to interfere in the Harvest,” the bat-monstrosity went on, ignoring Luke’s input entirely, “But we needn’t concern ourselves overmuch. Slayers hate to lose an innocent life to our kind. I am certain she will try to save this wretched boy.”

Each vampire turned to look at Jesse. Their yellowed eyes chilled him to the core.

* * *

“The plans for the city are just open to the public?” Giles asked, obviously befuddled by whatever Willow had conjured up onto the screen.

Willow shook her head. “A few years ago – when I used to be able to hang out with Danny – we sort of accidentally stumbled across all of these when we sort of accidentally decrypted the town’s security system. They haven’t upgraded anything since then.”

“Those tunnels run right under the cemetery,” Scott pointed at the screen, “But it doesn’t show how to get into them.”

“This is useless,” Buffy snapped, “And we are running out of time.”

“Aren’t you being rather hard on yourself?”

Giles’ observation was not appreciated. Buffy rounded on him. “You said I wasn’t ready. You warned me, and now look. I thought I could handle myself, but that Luke, the Incredible Hulk of vampires, came out of nowhere…”

She stopped midsentence, her brow furrowed.

“Vampires don’t come out of nowhere,” she reasoned slowly, “He didn’t come from the entrance we came from. He didn’t follow me out.”

Stiles reached the same conclusion she did at the exact same moment. In unison, they exclaimed, “The tunnel entrance is in the mausoleum!”

“Alright,” Scott nodded, “So then what’s our move? What do we do?”

“ _We_  don’t do anything,” Buffy argued, “You may have superpowers, but they are barely under control. You tried to kill me once tonight already.”

Scott seemed cowed, but Xander was anything but. “Well then, you and I should saddle up.”

Buffy sighed. Apparently her point was not getting through. “This is not something you help with. I am the Slayer. The rest of you stay put and don’t get killed.”

“We have to be able to do something to help,” Willow countered, “I don’t exactly want to rush into vampire-infested tunnels but… all of us have been friends with Jesse for years. We need to do something to help.”

“You can help me, I suppose,” Giles offered, “I’ve already broken protocol with the lot of you. Perhaps you can aid my research into this ‘Harvest’. From what I can tell thus far it’s a ritualistic slaughter, but I need more. Perhaps ther’s something to be learned on the line?”

“Online, you mean?” Stiles translated.

“You kids do that,” Buffy urged, “I’m out. If Jesse is alive, I’ll bring him back.”

* * *

The sun had nearly begun to rise by the time Buffy reached the mausoleum. She made her way around to the rear wall – one of the few areas her body had not become well-acquainted with during the fight. Sure enough, she could feel a metal door when she reached out her fingers. Feeling around for only a moment, she found the handle and pulled.

Nothing. It was locked.

“Don’t suppose you have a key, do you?” she asked. The man in the corner of the room hadn’t said anything, but she’d known he was there from the moment she’d entered. He stepped forward, and what little light came in from outside proved her suspicions – it was the same cryptic man who’d given her the cross.

“I don’t usually drop in to borrow sugar,” he replied, “They really don’t like me.”

“Shocking when you’re so personable,” Buffy quipped.

He was unperturbed by her sarcasm. “I’m surprised it took you so long to figure this out. I knew you would eventually though.”

“You could have maybe helped,” Buffy suggested. Though her tone was oozing sarcasm, she hoped it conveyed the proper amount of hostility. “But if you’re just going to be vague and cryptic but with decent taste in jewelry on a semi-regular basis, it would be fantastic to know your name.”

“Angel.”

She paused for a moment, rolling the name around in her mind. “That’s a pretty name,” she finally decided.

He didn’t seem to notice the compliment. “You can’t go down there. You have to survive until tonight. You have to stop the Harvest.”

Buffy asked, “You know so much about it, why can’t you stop it?”

“It terrifies me.”

It was the most direct, honest thing Buffy had heard him say yet. She countered with some honesty of her own, her trademark sarcasm vanished. “I have to go. I have a friend down there, or a potential friend, I guess.” The atmosphere in the mausoleum seemed to have charged amidst all their sincerity. Buffy didn’t deal with that well. “You know what it’s like to have a friend?” she joked.

He just stood, totally silent – so much for lightening the mood.

“That wasn’t supposed to be a stumper,” she added softly.

“When you’re in the tunnels, head east. Towards the high school,” Angel advised.

Buffy nodded, reared back, and slammed her foot into the metal door. It wrenched open with an impressively loud sound.

* * *

Giles pored over the ancient volume on his desk. He had somehow overlooked this dusty tome in his previous pass through the collection of arcane tomes in his office, but this one seemed to be the most helpful.

He read aloud – as he often did when he was nervous. “For they will gather, and be gathered. All that is theirs shall be his… From the Vessel pours life.”

“That means blood, right?” Stiles asked, peering over his shoulder. “And the Vessel is that guy?” He pointed at an engraving on the opposite face, depicting a humanoid monster with a three-pointed star painted onto his forehead.

Giles ignored him as best as he could and continued reading. “On the night of the crescent moon, the first past the solstice, it will come.”

Both Giles and Stiles glanced at the engraving. There it was, in the corner of the drawing. A waning crescent moon.

“That’s tonight,” Stiles observed, “I’ve been watching the phases of the moon, y’know, cause of Scott. And that… that is tonight.”

* * *

Something was behind Buffy – she did not like the feeling of being followed, but there was hardly room to turn around in this tunnel. Fortunately, she could feel a turn coming up – she could use the opportunity to surprise whatever it was.

She’d almost made it to the curve, when her stalker announced himself. “Buffy, hold up.” It was Scott.

“I told you not to come,” Buffy reminded him, more than a little snippily.

Scott shrugged. “I had to. I couldn’t sit around not doing anything.”

“I understand, now go away.”

“No,” Scott insisted, “Jesse’s been my friend for years, and he has been a big help in the past couple weeks handling this whole werewolf thing. If I can help him, I have to. And I will.”

Buffy sighed, and trudged deeper into the tunnels.

* * *

Cordelia’s first class of the day was basic computer programming. It was probably her worst class. In fact, the only one who seemed to have any idea what they were doing in this class was Jackson – and that was only because Danny helped him.

It was, therefore, pretty surprising to find Willow seated at the computer next to her station. Cordelia took note of this – it might be useful – but otherwise ignored the redhead entirely. Harmony took the seat next to Cordelia – they were working together on the current project which was fun but not entirely productive. Jackson took a seat right behind them. His partner in this project was Seth Greenberg – much to his chagrin – but Greenberg appeared to be late. As usual.

Harmony took charge of the computer for this class. “Did we do this last part wrong?” she asked.

“Is it finding the syntax and matching it?” Cordelia asked, hardly looking at the screen.

Harmony shrugged. “I don’t really know what a syntax is. Are we going to the Bronze tonight?”

“Of course we are,” Cordelia scoffed, “It’s not like there’s another cool place to go. Where were you last night?”

“Had a lot of homework,” Harmony frowned, “Why?”

“Okay, try just running the pattern, that should tell us if we did this right,” Cordelia suggested – her attention briefly returned to their actual assignment, “That’s what it says in the book anyways. No, but listen, I come out of the bathroom and that new girl, Buffy? She comes charging at me with a stick, screaming ‘I’m gonna kill you!’”

“I saw your Tweet,” Harmony commented, “Like is she crazed or what? I heard she got kicked out of her old school.”

“I’m not surprised in the least,” Cordelia replied.

Jackson, showing as much interest as he ever did in conversations like this, leaned forward on his own table. “What’d she get kicked out for?”

“Because she’s a sociopath, obviously,” Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“No, she isn’t,” Willow said. All eyes turned to her. Cordelia wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Willow disagree with her so openly before – she didn’t like it. But Willow wasn’t done. “She’s not crazy. You could actually take a minute to get to know her.”

There was silence for a moment longer, punctuated only be a few clicks from Willow’s mouse. Then Cordelia went off. “I don’t remember saying you could exist, let alone barge in on my conversations! Just because ours are by far more interesting than the ones you have in your boring life doesn’t mean you can just butt in whenever you want, with whatever completely worthless input you think you might have.”

“So,” Harmony interjected, “The program’s working fine. How do we send it to Miss Calendar?”

“We have to zip it,” Cordelia answered, “I’m not a hundred percent on what that means.”

“Easy! Select it all,” Willow suggested, rising from her seat, “And then hit the deliver key.”

Harmony highlighted the entirety of their programming. “Where’s ‘deliver’?”

Jackson spoke up, “There is no-“ But he was too late, Harmony’s finger closed in on the keyboard button marked ‘DEL’. Cordelia sputtered with wordless rage – she did know what had come over Willow since yesterday, but she did not care for it at all.

Willow, however, seemed to have a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she picked up whatever it was she’d printed out.

* * *

“It’s basically like in all the movies – crosses, garlic, stake through the heart,” Scott observed, “This is all so crazy.”

“Says the werewolf,” Buffy joked. Then, she handed him a cross. “I’m just gonna go ahead and guess you didn’t bring any of those things.”

“Good guess,” Scott admitted, “So what else should I know for vampire slaying?”

“They’re really flammable,” Buffy explained, “And beheading them works too. One time, back in L.A., this vampire pinned me down and all I had was this Exacto knife, right? And he had a really thick neck…”

“Like Larry Blaisdell?”

“We’re close,” Buffy held up a hand, stopping Scott dead in his tracks. “There’s no rats.”

“There’s something moving over there,” Scott pointed a little ways down the tunnel. As if one cue, they both heard a groan. “It’s Jesse!”

“Scott?” Jesse’s voice called out as they both rushed towards him, “Don’t come any closer! They said I was bait!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Buffy announced, “We’re getting you out of here.”

Some light cascaded down on them from a tiny grate above, which made it easy to see the chain holding Jesse in place. Buffy hardly hesitated at the sight of it, before picking up a rock from the tunnel floor and smashing it into the lock at Jesse’s ankle. The sound it made was much too loud for comfort.

“You think anybody heard that?” Jesse asked nervously.

Buffy shrugged. “You think anybody didn’t?”

A cackle from the direction they’d come from answered that. “No going back that way,” Scott observed, though they’d all reached that conclusion already.

“Any other thoughts on how to get out, Jesse?” Buffy asked. Even she seemed nervous now.

“Maybe?” Jesse stammered, “I think… I think, this way?” He took off down the tunnel, turning left at an intersection. Buffy and Scott hurried after him. He paused at a fork in the tunnels and then he turned left again.

Moments later, they found themselves in a small room. Buffy pushed the door shut behind them, just in time. The vampires were catching up. Fortunately, the door had a working lock. “I don’t think that’s going to hold very long,” she warned them as it clicked shut, “Where do we go from here?”

“This doesn’t seem like a way out, Jesse,” Scott sighed, looking around the room. There did not appear to be a way out. A loud thud informed them that the vampires on the other side of the door had caught up to them and had not given up the chase. “I don’t think we can fight our way back.”

“I have another suggestion,” Jesse announced, “You could die.”

Buffy and Scott turned and stared at him, watching his face morph from that of their friend into the ridged, horrific visage of a vampire.

* * *

Mercifully, Xander and Stiles had left the library when the bell rang for class. Willow had left much earlier – picking up on Giles’ desire to be left alone. She was rather intuitive, it seemed. He liked that. All in all, it had given him a good deal of time alone for further research.

The sound of the library doors opening brought Giles’ attention out of his tome. “Buffy?”

“It’s me,” Willow announced, “So no word?”

“Not yet,” Giles replied. He was trying to seem confident, but even he could tell how miserably he was failing.

“I’m sure they’re, y’know, great,” Willow assured him. She didn’t sound particularly confident either.

Giles gave a half-hearted smile. “Have you found anything?”

“I think so,” Willow nodded, “See, look at this. Some newspaper articles from 1937. Sunnydale had this huge earthquake, right? But before that there was a ton of murders – just like what you described. Throats, blood, no clues. But then with the earthquake, they stopped.”

Giles nodded. “Yes, yes, I see. It’s all coming together. I rather wish it weren’t.”

* * *

Scott stared, wide eyed. “I am so sorry, Jesse.”

“Don’t be,” the vampire grinned, “I feel strong. Like you. Maybe stronger. I feel in control of… everything. Connected to everything. And I have purpose. I know what the Master wants, and I know I can deliver it. Which means you have to die.”

“Jesse, we’re friends,” Scott stammered, “Think about all the good times we’ve had.”

Jesse shook his head. “You’re just a shadow to me. A reminder of the worthless, pointless life I’ve left behind.”

“Okay. Good talk,” Scott lifted the cross Buffy had handed him and shoved it towards Jesse’s face. Jesse snarled, leaping backwards.

And then Jesse lunged, knocking the cross from Scott’s grip. Buffy grabbed Jesse by the scruff of his neck, lifting him from the ground like a kitten. “Get the door,” she ordered.

Scott nodded, unlatching the door and pulling it open. Several vampires surged forward, but Buffy threw Jesse at them – knocking them back like bowling pins. Scott didn’t need to be told what to do next; he shoved the door shut. The vampires were back on their feet, pushing back against him.

Buffy moved to help, shoving with all her strength. Still, it wasn’t quite enough. The vampires were gaining on it, and the opening left in the doorway was widening. And then an arm jutted through, clawing at the air – hoping to find one of them. It nearly scratched Buffy’s arm – and then Scott felt himself begin to shift.

The unnatural strength surged through him into his arms and with an almighty shove, the door slammed against the wall – the arm withdrew with a pained shout. Another shove and the door was shut – Buffy latched it, and then turned nervously to Scott.

“You’re not going to try to kill me now, are you?” she asked.

Scott shook his head. He wasn’t fully shifted – just enough. “I gotta learn how to do this on purpose,” he explained.

Buffy nodded. “Now let’s find a way out of here.”

With his senses heightened – including his vision – Scott noticed something that had escaped both of their attention. A metal sheet leaned up against the wall. He lifted it out of the way – hurling it at the door as a gentle reminder to the vampires on the other side that they were up against two super-powered teenagers.

“An air vent!” Buffy exclaimed, ripping the grating from the wall, “Let’s go!”

Scott climbed in first, at Buffy’s insistence. As they both entered the incredibly narrow tunnel, he heard the metal door buckle and then wrench open. They scrambled upwards, sunlight poring down from the grating above them.

Above them the grating opened. Scott looked up – terrified about what he might see – but it was only Xander. “Hurry!” he called.

Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled up the vent, Buffy following closely behind. As they reached the top, Xander and Stiles pulled them free.

“How did you find us?” Buffy asked, panting for breath.

Stiles beamed with pride. “After Scott disappeared on us this weekend, I put a ‘Find my Phone’ app on his cell so we wouldn’t lose him. Then we heard you coming up. Where’s Jesse?”

* * *

When the foursome walked into the library, it was immediately obvious things had not gone well – and not just because Jesse wasn’t with them. Willow asked anyways. “Did you find Jesse?”

Scott nodded grimly.

“Was he dead?” Willow bit her lower lip.

Buffy shook her head. “Worse. We were way too late, and they knew we were coming.” She sank into one of the wooden chairs at the table. “So, Giles, got any news that can my second day of school even worse?”

All eyes turned to the librarian. “End of the world?” he offered casually.

“I knew I could count on you,” Buffy replied, “Details?”

Stiles interrupted, “Did you say ‘end of the world’? Like, the apocalypse?”

“It seems that way,” Giles explained, “In the 1930’s an ancient and powerful vampire arrived in this town, hoping to do more than feed.”

“Because this town is on a mystical thingamabob?” Stiles asked.

Giles nodded. “The Spanish called it Boca Del Infierno. We Watcher’s have adopted a translation as the term used for this type of nexus – Hellmouth. A portal from this world to a demonic hell dimension.”

“I’m so lost right now,” Scott muttered, “There’s other dimensions?”

“A vast number,” Giles answered, “We truly have no idea how many.”

“What did this vampire want to do with the Hellmouth?” Buffy asked, steering the conversation back on track.

“Bring the Old Ones back,” Giles told her, “Which would absolutely end the world.”

“That was in the 30’s though,” Stiles pointed out, “So why are we all still here?”

“There was an earthquake in 1937,” Willow jumped in, excited that she could explain at least part of what was happening, “It swallowed half of Sunnydale – they taught us about it in school, years ago, right? It looks like he got swallowed too.”

“Opening a dimensional portal isn’t exactly easy,” Giles said, taking another turn, “From what I know of it, he likely got stuck in-between dimensions. Imprisoned, and without the strength to pull himself free.”

“So that’s what this Harvest we’ve been hearing about does?” Scott guessed.

Giles nodded. “Indeed. It comes but once a century. A master vampire can choose one of his minions and draw power from while it feeds. That minion is called the Vessel, and he will be marked by this star.” Giles held up the book.

“And that Vessel would give this Master enough strength to get free and finish opening the Hellmouth?” Xander asked.

Giles nodded.

“This seems pretty easy,” Buffy mused, “I dust the vamp with the star on his forehead and that’s that. So, where is this guy going to be?”

“The Bronze,” Stiles announced.

“How can you be certain?” Giles asked.

Stiles shrugged. “They want a ton of tasty young morsels, all in one place. The place is always packed, even when there isn’t a band.”

“We’ll need to hurry there after school,” Giles insisted, “Set up and prepare for them.”

“We have lacrosse practice,” Scott jumped in, “Stiles and I can’t get there til after that.”

Buffy added, “That’s fine. I’ll need to stop home for supplies anyways.”

* * *

Darla was almost jealous – although thoroughly unsurprised – that Luke had been chosen. And now, as Luke prepared to be the Vessel, she and the others simply watched.

The Master extended his wrist, wordlessly. Luke sank his teeth into it. As he drank – an act that most vampires would consider heinous and that would certainly not provide him any value under normal circumstances – the Master intoned the words that turned this from a perversion to an unholy rite. “My blood runs with yours. My soul is your province.”

Luke raised his mouth from the Master’s wrist, lifting his face to the ancient vampire. “My body is your instrument.”

The Master dabbed his finger into his bleeding wrist – quickly, as the wound was already begin to heal, and began drawing the necessary symbol on Luke’s forehead. “On this most hallowed night, we are as one. Luke is the Vessel. Every soul he takes shall feed me. Their souls will grant me power to free myself. Tonight I will walk the Earth… and the stars themselves shall hide.”

* * *

Allison was sitting with the Cordettes at lunch, but waved Scott over to their table as soon as he entered the lunch room. “I didn’t see you this morning,” she said, a little sternly, “Everything okay?”

Scott frowned. He really didn’t like lying to Allison, but how could he explain what had happened in the last twenty four hours? “Not really,” he said vaguely, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “I get that.” Getting that didn’t erase the look of curious concern on her face. “If you need anything I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Scott managed a smile, “That means a lot.”

“Do you have plans tonight?” Allison asked, “Cordelia and Lydia are going to the Bronze. You should come with us.”

Scott looked up, alarmed. “I’m kinda busy, yeah, with Stiles,” he stammered, “Don’t go. Tonight. Tonight is going to be a bad night there.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “A bad night?”

Scott wracked his brain. There had to be a reason he could give. It took enough time for him to come up with a lie he thought was good enough. “Right, uhm, Stiles said the police got a call about stuff going down. The cops are gonna raid there, maybe shut them down early. I know you wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, but it’ll serious ruin your night. Tell all your friends not to go.”

Allison nodded. “My dad would kill me if I got caught up in a police raid. Tell Stiles thanks for the heads up, alright?”

Scott nodded.

Allison turned back to her friends for a moment, then looked up at Scott once more. “And, really, Scott. If I can do anything. You look like you’ve had a hell of a morning.”

* * *

The rest of the school day passed painfully slowly, despite the fact that Buffy had missed the first two periods of the day. She wondered if sitting on a mystical nexus actually made time pass differently when you were anxious.

When the bell finally rang to let them out, Buffy flew out of the door of the school and onto her school bus. She was only vaguely annoyed at the wait she endured while other students boarded – but generally the other students seemed almost as eager to get home as she was. The bus took off before long, and Buffy only had to wait a couple of stops before her stop. She sprinted from the bus stop and made it up to her bedroom before the front door had even swung shut behind her.

First things first – she had to change clothes into something more versatile for slaying. And then she needed to load up her duffle bag with supplies. She started digging into her closet.

“Buffy?” her mother’s voice asked.

Buffy hadn’t even realized she was home.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“I was quiet,” Buffy answered. They’d been through this before.

“You weren’t here this morning,” her mother said, a little more forcefully.

Buffy still didn’t take her head out of the closet. “I got up really early so I could get caught up on classes in the library.”

She could feel the stern look her mother was giving her without even looking. “It’s happening again, already.” It was not a question.

Buffy stopped, pulling herself from her closet. “It is not happening again.”

“Your principal called,” she commented, “Said you missed some classes. We’re not even unpacked and your principal is calling me.”

Buffy sighed. “I am really far behind in some of my classes. I was trying to get caught up, ask the librarian.”

“You’re not going out tonight,” her mother said sternly, “Especially if you’re so far behind on your classes.”

“I have to,” Buffy insisted.

“No.”

“Mom,” Buffy repeated, “I have to.”

“I know it feels like it will be the end of the world if you don’t,” her mom put on her seldom-used parental lecture voice, “I remember when I was fifteen. Everything is life or death. But it isn’t. You’re not going anywhere tonight. You can stay up here and sulk if you want, that’s fine. But if you come down, I’ll make dinner.”

Buffy gritted her teeth, trying to think of an inarguable cover story. “No, mom, listen,” Buffy insisted, grabbing just any pair of jeans from closet, “It’s a study group. Willow is trying to catch me up on all my classes by tomorrow. And tomorrow is my birthday – you might remember that – so I may have overheard that they’re getting a cake for me, so I really can’t miss it. It would ruin their surprise.”

“Fine.” Her mother turned – her expression softened. “But I want you home by a reasonable hour. You have school tomorrow.”

Once Buffy was dressed and had packed her bag with equipment kept in the false bottom of her hope chest, she tossed the duffle bag out her bedroom window and onto the ground. The sun was already setting – that seemed to happen strangely early in this town, even if it was the middle of winter. Slipping out the front door, she rounded the house and collected it.

Then she called Stiles. Even with all her Slayer abilities, his Jeep was going to be able to get her to the Bronze much faster than her feet.

* * *

Lydia hid a yawn behind her hand. Cordelia was on another tangent. The only thing making it at all bearable was that Jackson was clearly bored too. This, she noted, was what happened every time she came to the Bronze with a group of Cordettes. Given how early in the evening it was, the place was surprisingly crowded – though the crowd was almost all high school students. That’s probably what had sparked Cordelia’s current subject.

“You know why Allison bailed? Of course, she’s new, she doesn’t know any better. But she’s dating a sophomore. Who does that? I mean, it’s all about senior boys. Sophomores like us, they’re children. I mean, admit it Jackson. Right? You’re a sophomore boy, you know what I mean, y’know what I mean? Like take Jesse – he’s like a little puppy you just want to have put to sleep. Senior boys have mystery and… what is that word…”

Lydia started, “You just…”

Cordelia was not about to let anyone interrupt her. “Cars! Senior boys have cars. And I’m just not going to settle for less than that. I don’t settle, you know that. In a clothing store, I always have to have the most expensive things – not because they’re expensive. Because they cost more.”

“That’s what exp—“ Lydia attempted again.

“Can I get a word in edgewise, Miss Motormouth?” Cordelia snapped, “Oh my God, I love this song. Let’s all go dance!”

Cordelia jumped to her feet – Harmony and several others followed suit, winding their way out to the dance floor. Lydia was extremely satisfied to note that several of the Cordettes – Aura and Aphrodesia among them – remained seated with her and Jackson.

“I have a car,” Jackson pointed out with a smirk, draping his arm across Lydia’s shoulders.

Lydia pointed out to the dance floor. “Look who’s trying to ask Cordelia to dance again,” she mused, “Jesse. He looks kinda good tonight, what’s up with that?” All eyes followed her finger – sure enough, Jesse was on the dance floor, talking to Cordelia. And despite her eye rolls, it only took a few seconds for them to start dancing together.

Suddenly the music stopped – all eyes turned towards the stage.

“I didn’t think there was a band tonight,” Aura observed, “Must be some kind of surprise performance.”

“As long as it isn’t Dingoes Ate My Baby,” Jackson said.

A huge muscular man with a bizarre symbol painted on his forehead strode onto the stage. His face was strangely lumpy. Grabbing the microphone, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen! My name is Luke, and I’ll be serving your apocalypse tonight. There is no cause for alarm…” He paused, grinning. “Actually there is, it just won’t do any good. Bring me the first!”

Two other men dragged the bouncer up on stage, struggling but unable to break himself free of them. Luke grabbed him from the two men, but the bouncer didn’t seem to be able to break free of his grip either. And then Luke sank his teeth into the bouncer’s neck.

Several people screamed.

And then someone grabbed Lydia and she screamed too.

* * *

“Doors are locked,” Giles observed. Buffy had already doled out equipment to each of her friends – now they we just trying to get in. “We’re too late.”

“I didn’t know I was going to have to duke it out with my mother too, sorry,” Buffy groaned, “This door is way too thick for me to break down and the lock is on the other side.”

“Scott?” Stiles asked, “Think you could?”

“I don’t think I’m any stronger than Buffy is,” Scott shook his head.

“There’s other doors,” Xander offered, “Let’s check them out.”

Buffy looked up and smiled. “Or there’s that open window.”

* * *

Jesse had Cordelia pinned against a wall in the corner under the stairs, his hand covering her mouth to keep her from shrieking. “I’ll make you just like me,” he cooed, “We can live forever. What do you say?”

“She’s for the Master,” Darla’s voice cut in.

Jesse turned his head to face the other vampire. “This one is mine.”

“They’re all for the Master,” Darla insisted.

“I don’t get even one?” Jesse whined.

On the stage, Luke tossed another body aside. “I need another!” he announced, “The Master is rising!”

One of the other vampires dragged Lydia on stage; she screamed. There was no getting away from them, and even she was clearly coming to realize that. Luke sank his teeth into her neck, as he’d done for his previous two victims.

And then he tossed her aside. Still alive. Still screaming. He spat the blood. Lydia crawled behind a curtain, clutching at her neck.

“Bring me another one that’s  _edible_ ,” Luke shouted, “Tonight is his ascension! Tonight is the end of history! There must be a volunteer!”

“I’ve got one,” Darla announced, dragging Cordelia behind her as she mounted the steps onto the stage.

And then a vampire landed on the stage with a massive thud. All eyes turned up to the balcony – Buffy was standing there looking quite smug. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

The attention of every single vampire in the club was suddenly focused on one short blonde girl. Cordlia wriggled out of Darla’s grasp and jumped off the stage, scrambling beneath a table.

 

Buffy had found crates in the alley beside the Bronze and stacked them to make an easy way up to the open window – from there it had been simple to pull herself through and onto the second floor of the Bronze. A lone vampire had been there, and had attacked on sight.

She simply tossed him aside with a well-aimed kick that sent him over the railing and down onto the stage. It had all worked out pretty well, and now she had a good enough view to recognize that the Vessel was on the stage – and was the same monster who had attacked her the night before. She was not at all surprised to discover that, after all he was large enough to intimidate almost anyone. With the plate glass window, painted black, behind him and the stage lights all illuminating him, that effect seemed somehow enhanced. She wasn’t anyone, however, and she was not about to be scared off by an oversized undead.

Scott was following closely behind her through the window – Stiles and Xander were checking to see if the backstage doors had been secured as well as the front entrance. Giles had reasoned that having a window to get in wasn’t going to help much if they couldn’t find a way to get everyone out.

Her presence now known to the vampires, Buffy smirked down at them. “I didn’t want to miss your party.”

“I hoped you’d come,” Luke grinned up from the stage.

Buffy returned the grin – far less ferociously than his – and then vaulted over the balcony railing, landing with cat-like grace on the pool table below. She grabbed hold of a pool cue, left abandoned on the table when the vampires had no doubt interrupted the game, and spun as she rose – the pool cue slamming into the chest of a vampire who thought he was about to launch a surprise attack on the Slayer. He gave a surprised yelp, and burst into dust.  She’d never dusted one with a pool cue before – though she wasn’t surprised it could be done. Vampires were a little squishy when it came to wood. Neither of her Watchers had explained why yet, but it was useful when you needed to get creative with your wooden stakes. “Rumor has it you’re looking for blood,” Buffy said, her grin still in place even though Luke’s had faltered, “Come and get it.”

 

It had been a lucky break, as far as Stiles and Xander were concerned, that the backstage doors were open. They’d slipped in unnoticed. Willow and Giles followed them in.

Their good fortune at a stealthy entrance, they quickly realized, was due to Buffy’s taunting of the vampires. She was commanding their full attention. Scott was making his way along the balcony towards the stairs.

Then Xander spotted him – Jesse. Beneath the stairs. He pointed him out to Stiles and took a few steps in that direction.

Giles grabbed hold of his arm. “That is not your friend,” he warned, “That is a demon that’s taken over his body. There is nothing left of Jesse now.”

Xander nodded grimly, pulled his arm free, and kept moving.

 

“You know, in all my years, I’ve never killed a Slayer,” Luke said coolly, “Always wanted to though.” He hadn’t moved off the stage, nor had Buffy moved from her vantage point on the pool table. Once she started fighting Luke, she reasoned, the other vampires would be more than eager to help him by taking out her allies. She wanted them to at least be prepared.

And then she heard a shout from the balcony. “Werewolf!” The vampire who’d discovered Scott suddenly fell backwards from the balcony, landing on an upturned bar stool. The chair leg must have hit the bloodsucker’s heart, for it exploded in a burst of dust. Scott had armed himself with a stake and a cross. Apparently, he was already pretty good with the latter. Whether or not the others were ready, it was time for battle. She took a running jump off the pool table, flipping in midair and landing solidly at the edge of the stage.

Yells began amongst the crowd. Buffy took a quick look. While the crowd had been frozen in terror just moments earlier, panic was now truly setting in. She was going to have to try to make this fast. She charged at Luke, jumping into the air and landing a solid kick into his chest. He tumbled backwards, landing on the stage with a sickening crack.

 

Another vampire advanced on Scott – unfortunate since he’d nearly made it to the stairs. The creature lunged, but Scott dodged easily. He was shifting now, the familiar feeling passing through him. He’d guessed this was going to happen. He only hoped he could retain some level of control over himself.

So far, so good.

He clutched the cross in one of his clawed hands, holding it up to the vampire’s face. It hissed and backed away from him. But another one was advancing from behind. Scott briefly wondered how many there were, before remembering that the number was not nearly as important as getting to the stage where Buffy was fighting.

With a warning snarl at the two vampires, Scott rushed to the railing of the balcony and flipped himself over it. He landed on his knees and feet on the floor below, still clutching his two weapons. No one in the panicked crowd seemed to notice – but several more vampires did.

 

Giles gave the door a shove and, thankfully, it opened. That was at least one way out that was available now. He grabbed the shoulder of someone nearby and urged them through. That was all that was needed – a wave of people began making their way to the exit.

That was bound to get noticed, but hopefully if enough other doors were opened there would be little the vampires could do to stop the flow of fleeing people. He stepped out of the stream of people and surveyed the scene.

His was the only door open, and he couldn’t make sight of anyone else.

 

Xander was sure Stiles had been right behind him – somehow they’d been separated. Or else, Stiles had gone for one of the exits. As far as Xander was concerned, he could open a door after he’d seen to Jesse.

Seeing to Jesse proved to be more difficult than he’d thought. He’d been tackled by a different vampire, and he’d lost his stake. The vampire had lifted him and now pinned him against a support beam. He wasn’t really sure how he was going to get out of this mess – too many vampires, too much chaos, and his friends were spread way too thin. Buffy was still alone on the stage, mostly dodging the Vessel’s punches, he had no idea where anyone else was.

From her vantage point, however, Buffy seemed to have a better idea of where everyone was. She rolled to the side, avoiding another of Luke’s attacks, and leapt to her feet. In the same motion, she pulled a cymbal from the drum stand and hurled it like a discus – by some miracle, nothing interrupted its flight.

The vampire holding Xander never saw it coming, yet it cleanly severed the monster’s head. An explosion of dust – Xander was surprised to discover that at this close proximity the death of a vampire was actually, well, hot – like tiny flames were burning the body into ash.

Turning back to his mission, Xander caught sight of Jesse immediately. He had latched onto a struggling Cordelia and was dragging her out from under a table.

 

Willow finally managed to reach an emergency exit and pushed it open. Though she was certainly feeling well-protected, taking Buffy’s duffle bag once everyone else had gotten their equipment had made it difficult to get through the crowd – especially once everyone started moving. “Door’s open – go!” Willow cried, jamming a stake into the hinges to hold the door open.

She hoped Buffy wasn’t emotionally attached to that particular weapon.

Willow turned to make her way towards the front of the club – the main doors were her next objective – but something else stopped her short.

Scott was tearing at a vampire with his claws – two more were on top of him. She noted, curiously, that none of them had bitten him. But given the blood she could see, it was clear they were doing damage.

She reached into the duffle bag and withdrew a carefully padded glass jar marked “holy water” on the lid. She unwrapped it from the bubble wrap and charged – slamming the jar onto the head of the nearest vampire. The water splashed all over the three vampires and the werewolf underneath. Smoke erupted from the skin of the vampires, who immediately leapt into the crowd. She couldn’t even make out where they had gone.

Scott paused for only a moment before leaping towards the stage.

“You’re welcome!” Willow called after him. She didn’t have time to gripe about his lack of gratitude – she turned and continued pushing forward through what was left of the crowd.

 

Giles reached the doors first – but the vampires had apparently figured out what they were trying to do. A blonde, female vampire stood, arms folded across her chest. She had claw marks on her face – though they were clearly fading. Giles guessed this was the same woman who had captured Jesse and then battled Scott – the kids had told him she was called ‘Darla’. Something about that name and her appearance seemed somehow familiar to him.

“You humans move so slowly,” she cooed.

Giles just nodded. “Indeed.”

And then Darla moved with incredibly alacrity – Giles was used to the movement of vampires, however, and had no trouble following her with his gaze. He was fully aware that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge her, but he readied himself with a wooden crucifix in his hand.

She tackled him to the ground, but he clutched the holy symbol tightly to him. She reared up, hands at the ready to break his neck – it provided the perfect opportunity. He thrust the crucifix forward, slamming it into her face.

She shrieked as smoke rose from her skin, leaping backwards. Giles stood and followed her, the cross in his hand extended, driving the vampire before him. She stumbled through the doors and disappeared into the night.

“It’s always crosses,” Willow said in a ponderous voice, appearing just in time to miss the action, “Why is it never a Star of David?”

 

Xander had made it Jesse quickly enough, but after that his progress had absolutely halted. Jesse was holding Cordelia hostage and as much as there was no love loss there, Xander couldn’t watch his friend kill anyone.

“Jesse, this isn’t you,” Xander pleaded, “I know some part of you is still in there.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “You really have no idea, do you?” he snapped, “Jesse was an excruciating loser – not unlike you. Couldn’t get a date with anyone with eyesight. I am not that man.”

“Jesse was not a loser,” Xander insisted, suddenly wondering if Giles’ warning had had more truth than he’d wanted to believe. This didn’t sound like Jesse.

Jesse seemed frustrated – something the real Jesse seldom felt, if ever. He dropped Cordelia and grabbed Xander, shoving him into the wall. “The old Jesse would have reasoned with you,” he snarled, “Think how much more efficient I am now.”

Xander held up a stake to his former friend’s chest, clasped firmly in his hand. “Don’t make me do this, Jesse.”

Jesse simply laughed. “You couldn’t kill me, Xander. You have done it al-“

“Xander!” Stiles’ voice exclaimed, and he came rushing out of nowhere, “You found Jesse! Grea—“ And he tripped on an overturned chair, tumbling forward. He threw a hand up, trying to catch his balance on the nearest thing – Jesse – who pitched forward onto Xander’s stake.

The three boys each stared at the stake for one excruciatingly long moment, and then Jesse exploded in a burst of ash. Stiles collapsed on the floor – Xander slid down the wall to sit beside him. Neither spoke – neither had anything to say.

 

Buffy was cornered by the drum set, Luke standing over her. He bent down and grabbed her by the arm, roughly lifting her. “Master,” he said reverently, “Taste of this and be free.”

Buffy lifted her head and slammed it into Luke’s. He staggered, dropping the Slayer back on her feet. She had no idea where her stake had gone, but she had to finish this fight soon – she was becoming exhausted.

Luke moved forward, towards her, again. He seemed like he could do this all night. A notion which gave her a sudden idea. Buffy grabbed the stand she’d taken a cymbal from earlier and held it up to block him – and then she saw Scott leap onto the stage behind Luke, a stake in his hand. She held up the stand like a quarterstaff, suddenly grateful that Merrick had taught her how to use a variety of weapons among the other things she was grateful to him for, and circled her enemy. He turned with her smirking.

“What do you hope to do with that?” Luke hissed, “You forget, metal can’t hurt me.”

Buffy smirked. “You forgot about something too. Sunrise.” She hurled the metal stand at the painted plate window at the back of the stage. The glass shattered, and light streamed through. Luke screamed, leaping to get away from the light… and then stopped – nothing was happening to him.

The distraction was enough to allow Buffy to grab Scott’s stake and launch herself at her enemy. “It’s not til morning, you moron,” she smirked, shoving the stake through his back into his heart.

Now Luke’s scream was of true agony, though it lasted hardly any time at all before he was nothing more than ash on the stage.

Buffy panted, glancing up at the hole in window. “That is the most useful streetlight.” She turned to Scott – who was sitting on the stage now, claws digging into the wood. “Where’s everyone else?” she asked.

He shook his head – his eyes still glowing gold. “Dunno,” he managed through clenched fangs.

Buffy took a seat beside him. “Having trouble changing back?” she asked, though it was apparent, “At least you’re not trying to kill your friends. That’s growth, right?” She smiled a bit, really unsure of how to help him.

But the very tiny attempt at levity seemed to work – Scott chuckled briefly and the glow in his eyes faded. The wild sideburns and lumps over his forehead receded. His fangs and claws vanished.

“So, we won?” he asked.

Buffy shrugged. “We stopped the world from ending, I guess we deserve some credit for that. But if I don’t get home ASAP, I’m going to be grounded until the world really  _does_  end.”

Scott looked out across the room. Most of the patrons had fled, though some remained in a stunned panic. At some point, Lydia had gotten off the stage and reunited with Jackson – he was just holding her, which was uncharacteristically nice of him. Cordelia was frozen, unmoving, but sitting bolt upright on the floor near Stiles and Xander – who both looked utterly defeated, though both of them were still alive.

“Everything is going to be completely different tomorrow, huh?” Scott commented.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be sixteen.”

* * *

By the time Buffy, Stiles, Xander, and Willow reached their usual benches in the Quad the following morning, Cordelia had told anyone who would listen about the gang violence that broke out at the Bronze – indeed, that was what the police were saying too. Cordelia, as an additional benefit, had told everyone that Buffy absolutely knew the gang members. Lydia, meanwhile, was reaching near celebrity status for having survived being “stabbed in the neck” – even though she hadn’t come in to school.

Buffy was not surprised. “People usually rationalize or forget everything supernatural,” she explained to her friends, “That’s how everyone goes on oblivious to it. Defense mechanism, I guess.”

“I’ll never forget it,” Xander said, with a heavy sigh. Both he and Stiles were seriously lacking in their usual energy and optimism today, and they adamantly refused to talk about what had happened in the Bronze except to say that Jesse was not going to be a problem in the future.

“Good,” Giles’ voice cut in, “You’ll be that much better prepared for next time.”

“Next time?” Willow asked, “Next time is why?”

“Simply because we stopped the Master from freeing himself and opening the Hellmouth this time, doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying,” Giles explained, “He’s still there. Stuck. Besides, a variety of supernatural beings are drawn to a Hellmouth for all manner of reasons – seldom good ones. I’d say our fun has just begun.” He took a breath and added, his voice full of pride. “We may be all that stands in the way of the total destruction of the Earth.”

“Swell,” Stiles commented dryly.

Buffy forced a smile. “On the bright side, I might still be able to get kicked out of school.”

“Not a terrible idea,” Xander nodded, brightening a little, “Lots of schools aren’t on a Hellmouth.”

“They are really strict about blowing things up here,” Stiles suggested.

Buffy shook her head. “I did that at my last school. I want to try something totally different here, like excessive not studying.”

Giles sighed. “The Earth is doomed.”

Their joviality ended at the sight of Scott – who approached slowly, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“I think I killed someone last night.”

 

…to be continued…


	5. Pack Mentality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and his friends, still reeling from their recent loss, must investigate an "animal attack" that Scott may have committed himself -- meanwhile Allison and Lydia plan a double date that might be more painful than any kind of animal attack.

Scott smiled – not just at the incredibly beautiful girl sitting across from him although that was definitely the cause of his good mood. Just at all his unbelievable luck. Convincing her to go on this spontaneous date had been… well… easy. She’d just said ‘sure’ and they’d gone. And now, here they were, sitting on this old school bus in the bus lot next to the high school.

“You’re in a good mood,” Allison observed, returning the smile.

Scott nodded and lifted himself up from the seat. “Well, when I’ve just been sitting here watching this gorgeous girl…”

“Oh, yeah?” Allison mused, “Tell me about her. Maybe I know her.”

Scott crossed the aisle between them and leaned in to her. “I bet you do,” he whispered. And then he kissed her. The ease he felt was strange – like they kissed all the time rather than just the once. But she seemed to think it was perfectly natural, clasping the back of his head and pulling him towards her.

And then he felt the claws emerge from his fingers, latched onto the back of the seats on either side of him at least Allison wouldn’t be able to tell. But he had mere seconds to get away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked.

Scott pulled away from and stumbled into the aisle of the school bus. “Need air,” he grunted.

Allison raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, “Let’s just step off…”

“Get away from me!” Scott roared. He turned – now fully changed – and she screamed. He could hear her pulse race, hear the blood pump faster through her veins. Smell her fear.

It only made him hungry.

He lunged for her, but she slipped under him raced down the aisle towards the door as quickly as she could. He was faster. He grabbed her ankles, she fell, and he began to drag her back towards her.

Allison was not having any of that – she threw a kick, landing the blow squarely in Scott’s face. He was dazed for a moment, which was long enough for Allison to scramble to her feet and make it to the door at the front of the bus.

Scott snarled as he approached – more slowly this time. She couldn’t get the door to open from the inside, prying at it with her fingers. His prey was cornered. There was no need to rush – he’d have his claws wrapped around her throat soon enough.

Scott’s eyes snapped open. He was panting, out of breath, and drenched in sweat. “Just a dream,” he gasped. But that was hardly reassuring.

* * *

 

He’d almost shaken off the nightmare until he arrived at school. He usually parked his bike towards the front of the school, but the bike rack there was completely full. That was one of the problems with the reasonably nice weather they were having – everyone was biking to school. So, Scott went around the side of the building where he’d be able to lock his bike up on another bike rack.

And that was when he saw the bus.

The emergency exit at the back of the bus was hanging precariously from one hinge. Blood spattered across several of the windows and was smeared over the yellow paint on the outside of the bus. The sound of sirens reached his ears – the police were on their way to investigate.

Panic overtook him, Scott raced inside – his bike forgotten. He had to find his friends. They'd know _something_ about what happened.

* * *

 

“You think you killed somebody?” Buffy repeated.

“When would you have killed somebody?” Xander asked, “We were all busy most of last night.”

Stiles jumped in next. “Who? Who do you think you killed?”

“Allison,” Scott stammered. Everyone fell silent.

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” Giles finally suggested, “Start at the beginning, from when we saw you last evening.”

Scott launched into his story. “I just went home and went to bed.” He told them all about his dream, and waking up completely out of breath.

“I’ve had dreams like that,” Xander interjected, “Usually they end differently.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Thanks so much for sharing that.”

“But you awoke before you actually killed her?” Giles queried.

“There’s more than just the dream,” Scott sighed, going on to explain the bus he’d seen. The reactions of his friends were mixed.

“I still don’t think you could possibly have,” Xander shook his head, “You helped save the world, went to bed, killed somebody on a school bus over here, woke up in bed and got to school on time?”

“Werewolves can move remarkably fast,” Giles pointed out.

Buffy shrugged. “It’s not like it’s unreasonable to think you would have lost control. You were all set to kill me two nights ago.”

“I for one think you’ve been handling this amazingly well,” Stiles jumped in, “It’s not like there’s a Werewolves 101 class.”

“Not a class,” Scott nodded, “But maybe it’s time to go to a teacher.”

“Derek!” Stiles exclaimed, “Remember we got him arrested last week?”

“And this week he stepped in and helped you shift back,” Buffy pointed out, “If he was holding a grudge, I think you’d be dead by now.”

“Like Allison,” Scott groaned, “I can’t even believe…”

“We don’t know that you killed her,” Giles pointed out, “As far as you know, it was a dream. And perhaps that’s all it was.”

“Aren’t you going on your first official date with her tomorrow?” Willow pointed out, “That, combined with werewolf stress, would be more than enough to give _me_ nightmares.” There was a pause as everyone looked at her. “I mean, if I were dating Allison. But I’m not. It was hypothetical.”

“No, that’s a good point,” Stiles observed.

“The best way to make sure is to find Allison,” Scott said, “Let’s go look before the bell rings.”

“Don’t have to look far,” Xander pointed – across the Quad, Allison was crossing the grass straight for them.

“Did you guys hear about the Bronze?” Allison asked, amazed, “Scott, did you know any of that was gonna happen?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, “Like I said, we heard there would be a police raid.”

“Gang violence in Sunnydale,” Buffy mused, “Who would have thunk?”

Allison gave Buffy a suspicious sideways glance. Obviously she’d been talking to Cordelia already. “You guys didn’t know anyone _else_ who was there, did you?”

“Jesse,” Xander sank onto one the stone benches.

“Is he okay?”

Giles cut in, covering for the less experienced kids. “No one has seen him yet. We are quite concerned.”

Allison’s suspicious gaze now cast on the librarian. It was obvious she was wondering why he was hanging out on the Quad with students – but since she didn’t actually ask and no one had come up with a reasonable excuse, no one answered the unspoken question. “That’s terrible,” she said finally, “Scott, do you want to postpone our date tomorrow? Just until we know everyone’s okay?”

Scott stammered for a second, looking helplessly at his friends.

“No, it’s fine,” Stiles jumped in, “Go. Have fun. Get your mind off things.”

“Okay,” Allison nodded, “Great. Save me a seat at lunch, okay?”

“Like our table usually just fills right up?” Willow scoffed.

Allison giggled – it was a true enough observation, the table their little gang usually sat at typically had several empty seats around it. She shook her head and started walking away.

“Allison,” Scott said, loudly enough to stop her in her tracks, “I’m really glad to see you this morning.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, Scott. I’m glad to see you too.” With a shrug, she continued on her way.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh to himself. “She thinks you’re _so_ weird.”

“And she’s going out with him anyways,” Buffy pointed out.

The intercom cracked to life, Principal Flutie’s voice interrupting any and all conversations the students might be having. “By now most of you are probably aware of last night’s school bus incident. We will be continuing classes as scheduled.” 

* * *

 

Mr. Harris’ chemistry class was – or had been until recently – the very definition of Hell for Stiles. Adrian Harris, the teacher, was Xander’s uncle and had taken a dislike to all of Xander’s friends ages ago. When they’d started attending high school, he’d made it his mission to make all of their lives miserable.

Of course, it had all seemed a lot worse before they’d found out there was literally a gateway to Hell below their town and he’d accidentally killed his undead best friend. Those things seemed to put a lot in perspective.

“What if it’s my blood on the bus?” Scott whispered, jarring Stiles from his morose thoughts.

Stiles shrugged. “Could be an animal. Like a rabbit?”

“What would I do with a rabbit?”

“Maybe you ate it.”

“Raw?” Scott looked sickened by the idea.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, you brought your little werewolf oven on the bus with you. Yes, raw!”

“Boys,” Mr. Harris’ voice cut them off sharply, “This is not a discussion class. Since you’re only figuratively attached at the hip, you’re both moving. Apart.”

“You haven’t even started teaching yet!” Stiles protested.

Mr. Harris was unmoved. He pointed to two separate seats – one between Jackson and Lydia’s friend Harley – probably the most studious of the Cordettes, but no less vicious. The other seat was in the back of the classroom, right behind Tucker Wells, who was so completely unremarkable Stiles was shocked he remembered the poor kid’s name.

“If the separation anxiety is too much,” Mr. Harris continued, “Tell someone who cares.”

They’d barely sat down when Harley leapt up from her chair – looking out the window. “They found something!”

At first Stiles was amused at the lengths some people would go to avoid sitting next to a “loser” like Scott McCall – the windows of the classroom didn’t even look out towards the bus lot. But she wasn’t the only one getting out of her seat – in fact, Scott did too – and ultimately curiosity overtook Stiles too.

At this point, the whole classroom – save Mr. Harris who was looking completely irritated by the entire thing – stared as a stretcher was rolled across the parking lot to an ambulance. It was hard to see who was on the stretcher, but it was definitely a man.

“Is he dead?” Jackson asked. His tone somehow managed to be both curious and completely uninterested. Someday, Stiles thought, he was going to have to find out how to do that.

As if to answer the question, the man lurched up from the stretcher, screaming something unintelligible. He was covered in blood. Most of the students jumped back from the window in surprise. “He’s not dead,” Tucker observed.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much, asswipe.”

Scott had retreated even further back than the rest of the students. Stiles joined him. “Hey, this is good!” Stiles said reassuringly, “He’s not dead. Dead people can’t do that. Y’know, during the day.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Scott shook his head, “I did that.”

* * *

 

By the time Allison got to lunch, Scott and his friends were steeped in a deep discussion at their table – a discussion they abruptly stopped as soon as Allison reached them. Scott smiled and lifted his backpack out of the chair next to him. Allison inclined her head gratefully and slid into the seat.

Without any kind of warning, Lydia appeared in the seat next to her. This was especially surprising since none of them had realized Lydia had even come to school.

“What’re you doing here, Lydia?” Allison asked, concern in her voice.

Lydia shrugged. “The doctor said that it’s not very deep, and I can just go about my life as long as it doesn’t get infected.” She tossed her hair to the side, revealing a clean white bandage adhered to her neck, “So I came in during second period.”

The table grew uncomfortably silent when Jackson settled into a chair at the head of the table. Harley, Danny, and Aphrodesia promptly joined them as well, something which did not help anyone to relax.

“Danny,” Willow said with a polite nod.

“Willow,” Danny returned the greeting.

“So, how about that that bus thing?” Stiles jumped in.

“I heard it was a mountain lion,” Danny said with a shrug, “This town’s been crazy lately, right?”

Jackson frowned. “I heard it was a cougar.”

“A mountain lion is a cougar,” Lydia snapped. All eyes turned to her. She smiled innocently, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are,” Harley nodded encouragingly, “Anybody know who that guy was?”

“Probably some homeless tweaker,” Jackson smirked.

“Wow, so much compassion,” Xander groaned, “Why are you sitting here?”

“I have a news report about it on my phone,” Willow suggested, holding out the device in the center of the table so everyone could get a look.

She hit the play button and a reporter’s voice explained, as footage of just outside the school rolled across the screen. “The Sunnydale Police Department was refused to speculate on the details of the attack, although Sheriff Stilinski did reveal that the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive though he is in critical condition.”

As an image of the man flashed across the screen, Buffy and Scott simultaneously announced, “I know him.”

“You know somebody?” Aphrodesia asked, a little incredulously.

Buffy nodded. “He’s my bus driver. Met him yesterday, actually.”

“Used to drive my bus when I lived with my dad,” Scott agreed.

“That would explain why he was on a bus,” Stiles nodded.

“Can we talk about something more fun?” Lydia asked, “It’s been a long week.”

“Even though Monday was a holiday?” Xander said mockingly, though Buffy jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Why don’t we talk about what we’re doing tomorrow night?” Lydia went on, ignoring Xander, “Allison?”

Allison looked up from her food, eyebrows raised. She’d been silently observing the conversation as bet as she could – she knew she was largely responsible for making everyone’s lunch awkward, although she still couldn’t figure out why anyone had followed her to Scott’s table.

“You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night,” Lydia pointed out.

Allison nodded. “We hadn’t decided what we’re doing yet. He’s had a long week too.”

“Right, so let’s make a plan!” Lydia exclaimed, “I am not watching lacrosse videos like last Friday night, so if the four of us are hanging out, we’re going to do something fun. But not at the Bronze.”

“The four of us? Hanging out?” Scott looked helplessly around the table. Only Allison spoke up.

“Could be fun?”

“Stabbing my eye out with this spork could be fun too,” Jackson groaned, holding up the plastic utensil. Lydia grabbed it out of his hand.

“Jackson loves to bowl,” Danny offered helpfully.

“With actual competition,” Jackson shook his head.

That struck Allison’s competitive streak – something she typically tried to hide at school, but not when she was being so flagrantly challenged. “What makes you think we’re not actual competition? You can bowl, right, Scott?”

Scott nodded confidently, glaring defiantly at Jackson. “I’m a great bowler.”

* * *

 

“You are without a doubt the worst bowler I have ever seen,” Xander exclaimed, slapping Scott in the back of the head as they descended the stairs, Stiles trailing behind them, “That was the most disastrous lunch that has ever happened at this school. And I’m including Tuesday’s lunch, when they found a dead guy in a locker!”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Scott groaned, “I didn’t really think I could feel any worse this week, but now… I’m also about to be publicly humiliated.”

“In front of Jackson,” Stiles chimed in, “And he is not going to ever let you live that down.”

“And you’re ‘hanging out’ with Lydia and Allison,” Xander added, “That phrase is deadly. You’re moving swiftly towards the Friend Zone. You might as well be gay. You can date Danny!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Coach suggested that too. Can we focus on more important things? My date’s ruined, I might’ve killed a guy…”

“Does Danny seem like he’s attracted to me?” Stiles asked, veering in his usual way into another topic completely. “I don’t think he likes me much. Am I not attractive to gay guys?”

“We gotta get to class,” Xander grabbed Scott’s arm and took off down the hall. It was usually best to let Stiles sort through his tangents by himself.

Stiles shouted after them anyways. “Is no one going to answer my question? Am I attractive to gay guys?”

* * *

 

Five minutes after the bell rang signaling the end of classes, Buffy was in the library. “Reporting for duty, Giles,” she said, slumping into a chair around the table. It was starting to seem very much like a command center from the movies – which was somehow terrifying and comforting all at once.

Giles turned from the bookshelf he was organizing, more than a little surprised. “I was not expecting you for any kind of duty,” he informed her, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you wanted to train me,” Buffy reminded him.

Giles nodded. “Yes, well, you handled yourself quite well in the face of incredible danger. I realize I have no idea what you did with your former Watcher.”

“Honestly, not much,” Buffy lolled her head back and shut her eyes. She had been hoping she wasn’t going to have to relive her experiences in Los Angeles outloud, but Giles seemed to want her to. “There wasn’t a lot of time between when I met him and when Lothos…”

“I see,” Giles nodded. She didn’t need to fill him in – he was, of course, perfectly aware that the vampire Lothos had killed her first Watcher. “Then I am quite impressed. I’ll work on a training regiment shortly. In the mean time, perhaps you and I could construct a patrol schedule?”

“Patrol?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, “This is new.”

“Merrick didn’t have you patrolling for vampires?” Giles asked, a bit taken aback.

“They usually found me without my having to look,” Buffy shrugged, “How am I going to explain patrolling to my mother?”

“It’s a good thing you came by,” Giles said heavily, “Apparently, we have a lot of ground to cover. To be honest, the Council’s never given me a charge before – let alone had me take care of _the_ Slayer. You’ll have to work with me as much as I have to work with you, alright?”

Buffy nodded. “I think we can make this work."

* * *

 

Scott raced into the veterinary clinic, hurrying into the examining room. Dr. Deaton was unpacking a box of medications. “Sorry I’m late!” Scott exclaimed.

“Two whole minutes,” Dr. Deaton joked, “I was about to file a missing person’s report. I realize you’re a busy man, Scott, I can afford to give you a few minutes leeway here and there.”

Bells jingled, and both Dr. Deaton and Scott looked up towards the door. Scott’s heart stopped – Sheriff Stilinski was walking in. What if he’d found out that Scott had attacked the bus? How could he explain himself?

“Saladin must be ready to get those stitches out,” Dr. Deaton said, opening the door and letting the Sheriff – and, sure enough, the dog that was with him, enter the room. Scott had completely forgotten that one of the police department’s dogs had gotten stitches not too long ago.

“Hey, Scott,” the sheriff said, smiling, “Good to see you’re staying out of trouble.”

Saladin was a big German Shepherd, but between the doctor and the sheriff they managed to get him up onto the metal table. As the doctor took a look at the dog, the sheriff pulled a file out of his jacket. “While I’m here, doc, would you take a look at these photos? We still can’t determine an animal.”

“Of course, but I’m not an expert, just a vet,” Dr. Deaton replied, turning away from the dog on the table to look at the photographs. Scott, out of habit, moved to pet the animal and keep him from going anywhere. This, coincidentally, gave him a pretty good view of the pictures as well. They were definitely images of the bus driver’s injuries – and they were clearly teeth marks.

“I’m not an expert either,” the Sheriff said, “But an animal attack like this, and wolf hairs on Laura Hale’s body… and teeth marks there too. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

“There hasn’t been a wolf in California in like sixty years,” Scott announced, hastily adding, “I read that. Somewhere. In a book. For reading.”

“That’s true,” Deaton nodded, “But wolves migrate. They could be back. It’s awfully far south for them to have come in from another state unnoticed, but it isn’t without precedent. It doesn’t explain the head wounds here, but a wolf would likely have hobbled its prey at the ankles like this… and then gone for the throat.”

Scott grimaced – that was pretty much exactly what he’d done in his dream. And it sounded like it was exactly what he’d done to Garrison Myers.

* * *

 

Willow pursed her lips. “I don’t think so, Stiles,” she shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because, Stiles, if I just Google ‘werewolf’ I’m mostly going to come up with a bunch of horror movie fan sites,” Willow explained, “The computer doesn’t magically know we’re talking about real werewolves. That is the strangest sentence.”

“But someone on the Internet must know about real werewolves!” Stiles protested, jabbing an accusatory finger at the computer on Willow’s desk.

“How are you going to find out which web sites actually know what they’re talking about?” Willow pointed out.

Stiles sighed, slumping down into a sitting position on Willow’s floor. “That’s why I’m coming to you. I did research online before. And a lot of the sites totally matched up with Giles’ book. I just wanted to know if maybe there’s something on them, like coding or something, that we could find so we could know if sites are legit in the future. Plus, I need another pair of eyes on this if we’re going to keep Scott from killing. You know, again.”

“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea for Scott to learn from Derek,” Willow told him, taking a seat in the desk chair, “Besides, doesn’t Giles’ book have all the answers?”

“If it had all the answers, we wouldn’t be so worried, would we?” Stiles quipped, “You’re the tech genius in our little Scooby Gang here. You have got to help. No one is as good at this stuff as you are!”

Willow had to smile. Stiles was a manipulative little jerk, but he was good. “Show me the sites that you found, I’ll take a look at them.”

Stiles met her smile with one of his own.

* * *

 

Derek had found he really did not enjoy living alone in the woods, but so long as the hunters knew who he was and that he was in Sunnydale, his best bet for survival was to lay low in a building most people assumed was uninhabitable.

Unfortunately, his location wasn’t completely unknown to everyone.

“Derek, I know you can hear me. I need your help.”

Scott’s arrival wasn’t any surprise. Derek had predicted this moment when he’d first met him. And so, moments later, he wordlessly stepped out onto the porch where the teenager awaited him.

“Okay, I know you’re probably pissed,” Scott stammered as Derek loomed over him, “Because I got you thrown in jail. And basically announced that you’re here to the hunters. And I really don’t know what happened to your sister, and I am sorry about…”

“Did you have a question?”

“I think I did something last night.”

“The driver,” Derek surmised.

“Were you there?” Scott asked.

Derek shook his head. “I get the news.”

“Right,” Scott replied, “So you don’t know if I hurt anybody?”

“Nope.” Derek shrugged.

“Could I hurt someone?”

“Yeah.” Derek’s tone was flat, unfeeling and totally unwavering.

“Could I kill someone?”

“Yeah.”

“Will I kill someone?”

“Probably.”

Scott shuddered. “Great. This has been very comforting.”

“I can help you remember,” Derek offered, “Help you control your shift. Even on a full moon.”

“Okay,” Scott smiled weakly. “So help.”

“First,” Derek explained, “Go back to the bus. You’ll remember. Use your senses and experience it again.”

“Just go back?” Scott crinkled his forehead, “That’s all?”

Derek growled under his breath. “Do you want to remember or do you want to waste my time?”

“I just want to know if I’m going to hurt anyone,” Scott said. It was almost a whimper.

Derek tightened his jaw. He’d seen that look before. Hell, he’d made that look before. “No, this isn’t about anyone. This is about a girl.”

* * *

 

Buffy herself had nearly forgotten the importance of the day – somehow the events of the night before had overshadowed everything else. Something about saving the world but being unable to save one of your own friends made everything seem really insignificant.

Although, the size of the cake was definitely significant. The cake managed to take up most of the kitchen table during dinner, which was no small feat. The Summers household managed to eat around it.

“Your sister and I wanted to make your birthday really special this year,” her mother beamed across the table, “I also called your father to ask if he wanted to see you this weekend.”

That was really big of her, Buffy realized, calling him when they had not even been living in Sunnydale for a week. That was when it hit her – she’d been furious with her father when they’d been living together but now she really, truly missed him. “What did he say?”

Her mom smiled sheepishly. “Well, I left a message.”

“Wanna open your gifts?” Dawn asked, impatiently rocking in her seat at the kitchen table, “Mom and I got really great stuff. We went to…”

“Don’t ruin the surprise, sweetie.”

Buffy smiled appreciatively at her mother. This was the script they basically followed every year – Dawn getting impatient for Buffy to open her gift, mom calming her down… everything seemed so normal. Except that her dad was not about to bring in a stack of gift boxes for her. That realization seemed to strike everyone at the same time, an awkward silence descended on the three Summers girls.

“Well,” Buffy’s mom said finally, “I’ll get the gifts.”

There weren’t many in the stack that soon materialized on the table – just three, actually – but that was more than Buffy had honestly expected. The first gift was obviously a book, although Buffy had to hide her disappointment that it was _Twilight_. The second gift – much cuter – was a handwritten note from her mom promising to help Buffy finish unpacking that had been tucked in the bottom a box full of tissue paper.

The last gift was from Dawn, who excitedly announced, “We picked it out today!” Buffy smiled at her and tore open the wrapping paper. Inside the package was a folded white t-shirt with a simple black cross adorning the front.

“It’s perfect,” Buffy said, holding up the shirt.

“How about that cake, then?” her mother suggested. The two girls readily agreed.

* * *

 

Scott had picked up Chinese food after leaving the Hale house – thankful to be out of work early enough for all of this – and biked from there to the hospital to surprise his mother. All this travel he was doing definitely made him glad he was no longer asthmatic.

She spotted him the moment the elevator doors slid open – and spotted the bag in his hand as well. “Is my gorgeous, talented, oh so smart son actually bringing me dinner?” she gasped.

Scott grinned at her as he approached the desk and set the paper bag of Chinese on the counter. “I thought you’d like to skip the cafeteria tonight.”

She smiled back at him. “You are so loving and thoughtful and conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Conniving!” she replied smugly, “I can read you like a book, mister, and you cannot have the car tomorrow.”

She had read him like a book, which was only a little embarrassing. He hoped he was better at keeping other, larger secrets from her. “But I have a date!”

“No, you don’t,” she shook her head, “There is a rampaging animal on the loose. I don’t want to see you or any of your friends in one of the beds on this floor like that bus driver did. No car.” She paused, as if daring him to challenge her. When he didn’t, she snatched the take out bag from the counter and made for the nurse’s break room. “I will take this though. I love you.”

“Love you too, mama,” Scott muttered weakly. He wondered how Stiles would feel about chaperoning his double date. Glumly, he turned to leave…

…but he didn’t. He knew this was a bad idea the moment it occurred to him, but he had to see. Eyes darting around, he quickly found a door with a chart labeled “Myers, Garrison” outside the door and cautiously slipped inside.

Garrison Myers looked as though he might be dead. He was pale, and even with the dressing on his head wound blood had managed to seep down the side of his face. The only indication he was alive was the steady beeping of the EKG machine that measured his heartbeat. Then his eyes snapped open – instantly catching sight of Scott – and he screamed.

* * *

 

Things had moved pretty quickly – almost as soon as she finished eating her piece of birthday cake, Buffy’s cell phone rang. She answered and Scott informed her that he was going to need her help later that night. She barely had time to pack a gym bag of equipment and toss it out of her window before Stiles’ Jeep appeared in the driveway.

She’d almost made it to the front door – telling her mother they were going to a vigil for the bus driver – when Dawn blocked her way, arms folded across her chest. “It’s happening again,” she said firmly, “That’s why I got you that shirt.”

Buffy nodded. “I know. Thanks.”

“Don’t go,” Dawn pleaded.

“I wish I had a choice, Dawnie,” Buffy frowned sympathetically, “But there are people in trouble and I have to help. But I’ll be careful, okay?”

“I get scared when you go out at night,” Dawn said, “Don’t go.”

Buffy sighed and patted Dawn on the top of her head. “What if I come in to your room when I get home, to let you know I’m okay?”

Dawn stared her in the eye for a minute but finally relented and stepped aside. Buffy rushed out the door and clambered into Stiles’ Jeep. “Sorry, family stuff,” she said briskly.

“Everything’s okay?” Stiles asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded, “It’s just my birthday so…”

“It’s your birthday?” Stiles exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“She told me,” Scott murmured.

Buffy shrugged. “There’s been a lot of other stuff going on.”

Stiles nodded his agreement. “I mean, my dad and I practically ignored his birthday yesterday. He's got cases, I've got apocalypses...”

“I totally forgot,” Scott groaned, "Tell him I said happy birthday."

“See what I mean?” Buffy smirked, “So, do we _have_ a plan?”

* * *

 

As plans went, this really wasn’t one. Scott knew it – even though he’d devised it to begin with. Stiles was especially displeased and was being very vocal about it. “Stay with the Jeep!” he exclaimed, “I’m basically Alfred to your Batman and Robin. I want to be Batman sometimes.”

“No one is Batman any of the time,” Scott assured him.

“Some of the time?” Stiles asked, desperation creeping into his tone.

Buffy quipped, “I’m definitely never Batman. Can we do this? I am not relishing standing guard over Scott if he goes crazy.”

The boys agreed, so the werewolf and the Slayer clambered out of the Jeep. The bus lot was closed off by a large chain link fence, which did not prove to be much of an obstacle. Buffy boosted Scott up high enough that he could pull himself over the top and drop down the other side. As he dusted himself off, he heard Buffy land behind him. Scott glanced back at Stiles, who was drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, and then marched between the buses towards the scene of the crime.

The bus looked pretty horrific from the outside, but the inside was even worse. There was blood everywhere, the seats were clawed apart and one had even been pulled up from the floor. “Animal attack?” Buffy scoffed, “Is anyone buying that?”

“Sheriff seems to be,” Scott said absently, “Let me focus.”

Buffy fell silent, and Scott closed his eyes, trying to visualize what he’d dreamt. Trying to remember what had happened. And then…

“Someone’s coming,” Buffy observed.

“Why didn’t Stiles warn us?” Scott asked, dropping down to the floor. The light of a flashlight swept across the bus. He poked his head up to look out the window.

“They’re not coming from the same direction we did,” Buffy pointed out, “I don’t think they’re cops.”

The flashlights had stopped their approach. One of them turned in, casting light on the faces of the group. They had stopped to discuss something – likely, they’d realized there was someone on the bus. What concerned Scott more, however, was that the faces were familiar. Allison’s father was leading this group – just has he had the night Scott had confronted Derek in the woods and had narrowly escaped. “Hunters,” Scott hissed.

Buffy’s jaw clenched. “I’ll take care of it, you stay here and do what you were doing. I want to have a word or two with these guys anyways.”

Scott nodded. As Buffy left, he turned back to the torn apart interior of the bus. Somehow, alone, this seemed easier. Maybe it was because there was no sound of another person breathing. The smell of blood flooded his nostrils… and then flashes. Garrison Myers falling to the ground. Red eyes glowing behind him, dragging Garrison back towards him…. Blood spraying across the bus, screams echoing inside the vehicle. Scott had watched it all.

No… Scott had reached out his own hand. Scott had tried to save him.

* * *

 

Buffy stepped casually off of the bus. No reason to alarm the hunters any more than they already were. “Out for a night time stroll?” Buffy asked, her voice as amiable as she could manage. No matter what these people intended, they were human. She didn’t want to fight them. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” the leader of the five men – who she could only assume was Mr. Argent – demanded. His tone was much less friendly.

Buffy clicked her tongue. “I asked first.”

“I have a crossbow aimed at your jugular,” Mr. Argent countered.

“Persuasive,” Buffy nodded, “But on the other hand, you don’t have Slayer reflexes or strength. Or manners.”

“I signed on for werewolves, dude,” one of the other hunters said cautiously, “If that’s true…”

“If that’s true,” Mr. Argent interrupted, “Then we’re on the same side. And if you found anything on that bus, I think you’d let us see it.”

“What side is that?” Buffy inquired innocently, though her voice had a lot more edge to it than it had at the start of their conversation. “Really, I’d love for you to start answering my questions.”

Mr. Argent sighed and relented. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt, either way. We’re hunters, and we’re doing the same thing the Slayer is supposed to. Stopping the forces of darkness.”

“That’s so weird,” the Slayer mused, “Because last night I stopped vampires from ending the world and I didn’t see any of you there.”

Mr. Argent balked a little at this. “We… don’t really handle vampires. We specialize in werewolves. Besides, we had no idea.”

Buffy wasn’t about to back down. “My Watcher said there were omens and portents. You missed those? I guess you must’ve been busy – what with stopping whatever monster was tearing apart bus drivers last night. Oh, about that…” She folded her arms across her chest. “I think you guys need to book some serious training time with my Watcher. I’ll handle this one.”

“We don’t work with Watchers,” Mr. Argent scowled, “And we’re going inside that bus to investigate. Slayer or not, you’re a teenage girl. Go home.”

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. “Not my bed time yet. Come back later.”

Mr. Argent narrowed his eyes. “What is on that bus you are so eager to protect?”

Buffy hadn’t really worked out an answer for this yet – so it was fortunate, in a sense, that their conversation was suddenly halted by the blaring sound of Stiles slamming on the Jeep’s horn. “Cops!” Buffy exclaimed.

“This conversation isn’t finished, Slayer.” It didn’t take another moment for Mr. Argent to spin back to facing his fellow hunters. “Run,” he ordered, “Flashlights off, go!” The group scattered.

Scott jumped out from the back of the bus. “Let’s go,” he announced. He didn’t need to tell Buffy twice – both of them took off at a run.

As they neared the fence, they could hear Stiles’ shouts. “Come on, come on!”

Buffy jumped onto the hood of a bus near the fence. She turned to help Scott up, but he was already sailing through the air – landing with a thud on the roof. “Show off,” Buffy muttered, hopping up after him. She could see the gleam from headlights down the road as they raced across the bus and leapt over the top of the fence. Their feet barely touched the ground before they clambered into the Jeep.

“So?” Stiles demanded.

“Drive now, details later!” Buffy exclaimed, “Go, go, go!”

Stiles obediently threw the Jeep into gear and drove away, zipping past the approaching cop car. The police radio Stiles’ had commandeered for his own vehicle crackled to life almost immediately, “Sheriff, what the hell is your son up to tonight?”

Stiles shrugged, then turned his attention back to Scott. “So?”

“I didn’t kill him,” Scott said, smiling weakly, “There was another werewolf there. I think it might’ve been Derek.”

Buffy scoffed, “No way. Derek would not send you to remember his vicious attack on an innocent man. That makes no sense.”

“Some kind of pack initiation maybe?” Stiles suggested.

“Murder is such a bonding experience?” Scott smirked.

Buffy shook her head. “I never really pictured werewolves as being into hazing stunts like this. Did that book say anything about it?”

“But if you didn’t do it, it means you’re not a killer!” Stiles continued, ignoring everyone’s doubts as was his usual tactic, “That means…”

“I can go out with Allison tomorrow!” Scott practically shouted. Buffy rolled her eyes.

“That means you probably won’t kill any of us,” Stiles finished.

Scott grinned. “I guess that’s good news too.”

“We still have two big problems,” Buffy interrupted, “We’ve got a murderous werewolf on the loose, and hunters who were not happy to find out the Slayer is in town.”

“Also a gigantic portal to hell under the high school,” Stiles pointed out, “So three big problems.”

“I mean, four if you count the fact that we’re in high school,” Buffy quipped.

Scott groaned. “Can we be done? I was actually kind of happy a minute ago.”

* * *

 

Buffy was home before her mother had even gone to sleep – much to her mom’s relief. “I think I like your new friends, getting you home at a reasonable hour,” she told her daughter, “We should have them over for dinner so I can meet them.”

“Maybe some time,” Buffy replied vaguely, before marching up the stairs, “Is Dawn in bed?”

“Do not wake up your sister!”

The warning was unnecessary – as soon as Buffy reached the top of the stairs, the door to Dawn’s bedroom creaked open and Dawn’s face appeared. She smiled widely at Buffy – who returned the grin – and then softly closed the door again.

* * *

 

The school day had passed uneventfully – other than Scott telling the gang he was not a murderer. There were no dead bodies found on school property, and Giles seemed to think the world was safe. “For the time being, at least,” he’d said.

All in all, Willow had to call it a good day. Except for Stiles.

He seemed more hyperactive than normal and asked her every time he saw her if she’d found anything on the sites. “Nothing in the coding caught my eye,” she told him – not for the first time, “I’ve got nothing. Maybe I should ask Danny?”

“Let me take a look!” Xander offered.

Both Stiles and Willow stared at him.

“I have eyes,” Xander exclaimed, “It’s just looking at something, right?”

“Can’t hurt,” Stiles shrugged, “And it’s better than trying to explain this to Danny.”

And so, after school, Willow found herself sitting at a computer in the library with Xander staring over her shoulder. “See, there’s nothing identical on the sites or in the codes,” Willow explained with a sigh.

“What about those?” Xander jabbed his finger at the screen.

Willow furrowed her brow. “Those symbols in the bottom corners? They’re totally different sets of symbols.”

“But they’re both in the same spot,” Xander reasoned, “I mean, it just seems weird to put a bunch of random symbols in the same spot.”

“Symbols have to mean something though,” Willow shook her head, “Not just be in a certain spot.”

“However,” Giles’ voice piped up from behind them, “The placement of symbols can have significance as well. Perhaps Xander is on to something after all.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Xander shrugged.

* * *

 

“These are all terrible,” Lydia groaned, pushing aside yet another rainbow floral top hanging in Allison’s closet. “I had such faith in your fashion sense when we met.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you?” Allison raised her eyebrows, smirking.

Lydia shrugged. “I give up. Do you have another closet or something? Where are your cool clothes?”

“Laundry, actually.”

Lydia sighed and threw herself dramatically down on Allison’s bed. “I guess you’re just going to have to wear that.”

Allison stared at herself in her mirror. Cute dress, cute leggings, cute jacket. “I don’t see the problem.”

“You’ve been in it all day!” Lydia complained, “Don’t you want Scott to see you in something new and exciting?”

Allison shrugged. “I don’t think he pays much attention to what I wear. Which is fine. Besides, we only have a little bit of time before we have to go.”

“Go where?”

Allison and Lydia both snapped their attention to the door, which Mr. Argent was walking through. He paused and then smiled sheepishly. “I forgot to knock again.”

Allison just glared.

“Well, listen,” Mr. Argent said, apparently assuming he’d been forgiven, “I know you made plans, but your mother and I talked about it and we’ve decided you can’t go out tonight.”

“What?” Allison exclaimed.

Mr. Argent explained, “I know it seems unfair, but as long as there’s a vicious killer animal on the loose, we just don’t think it’s safe out there.”

Allison sank onto her bed, next to Lydia.

“Well, that’s all. Bye.” Mr. Argent backed out of the room, almost nervously.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Well, daddy’s little girl, huh?”

Allison just sat sullenly on her bed until she heard the bedroom door click shut. “Not tonight,” she replied, grabbing a knit hat and shoving it onto her head. Ignoring Lydia’s confused look, she strode to the window, slid it open, and crawled through it onto the roof.

“I’m all for sneaking out, trust me,” Lydia stammered, trailing Allison to the window and staring at her from its vantage point, “But you live on the second floor.”

Allison merely shrugged and jumped, flipping into the air and landing on the grass below with a dull thud. She looked up and grinned at Lydia. “I took eight years of gymnastics. Are you coming?”

“I’m gonna take the stairs.”

Lydia turned from the window and headed down the stairs towards the front door. The voices of Mr. and Mrs. Argent were raised in some kind of heated debated. “I cannot believe you let a high school brat stand in the way of what we need,” Mrs. Agent nearly snarled.

Lydia decided it was best not to interrupt and slipped out the door without saying good-bye. Allison was waiting expectantly for her. “Your parents are so weird.”

* * *

 

Willow was more than a little unnerved. She’d never seen Stiles like this – sitting quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles answered, though he was not very convincing, “Did you find something?”

“Xander did,” Willow nodded.

Stiles let out a brief chuckle. “What did he find?”

“Giles called them ‘sigils of knowledge’,” Willow explained, “But I guess there’s a bunch of different names for them. He said they’re usually put on like windows of magic shops and inside the covers of books. To show they’re legit. Those web sites have them too.”

Stiles nodded. “Good, so all I have to do is find all the sites with these sigils on them.”

“All of them?” Willow repeated, “Stiles, what is going on with you?”

For a moment, Stiles fell silent – something Willow couldn’t recall him ever doing before. Finally he sighed. “I just want to keep anyone else from dying any way I can.”

Willow sank into a sitting position on the floor next to Stiles. “Jesse wasn’t your fault,” she assured him.

“I pushed him onto a stake and he turned into ashes.”

“He was gone before then. Didn’t Xander tell you the things he was saying? That wasn’t Jesse, that was a monster that looked like him.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, obviously unconvinced, “But everyone around me dies. I just want it to stop.”

“Everyone?” Willow wondered, “Who?”

Stiles’ response was barely audible. “My mom.”

Right. “That wasn’t your fault either,” Willow gently put a hand on his shoulder, “Bad things happen. Even when you don’t live in Sunnydale.”

Stiles stared at Willow’s hand for a moment, then smiled weakly. “Yeah, you’re right. Still, the more we know…”

“There’s no way you can memorize the entire Internet. And who knows if the things you remember will even be things that are going to happen here,” Willow disagreed, “I have an idea, Stiles. Here, it was your dad’s birthday this week, right? Let’s go buy him a cake for when he gets off of work.”

* * *

 

The game had started well enough. Jackson had helped Lydia with the ball, and through their combined effort they had managed to miss every single pin. Scott took that as an encouraging sign. Allison, of course, got a strike.

And then things went downhill –it was Jackson’s turn. He gave Scott a cocky grin and then released the bowling ball. Of course, he managed to knock down all of the pins. Jackson was predictably smug as he returned to his seat.

Scott smiled halfheartedly at Allison and rose from his seat. He could already tell this was going to be a disaster as he picked up his ball – his palms were sweaty and he was certain he was going to sprout claws and fangs at any moment. The pins at the end of the lane seemed miles away. He swallowed, and swung his arm forward. The ball slipped from his fingers and landed with a thud on the lane, rolling lazily sideways until it crashed into the gutter and ultimately disappeared from view without knocking down a single pin.

Jackson erupted into hyena-like laughter.

“Jackson,” Allison said sharply, “Shut up.”

“Sorry,” he cackled, “I’m just flashing back to yesterday. ‘I’m an excellent bowler!’ Am I the only one who remembers that?”

“We just started, give him a chance,” Allison gave Scott an encouraging smile.

The nice thing about bowling was that if you completely flubbed, you had a second shot at… well, flubbing again in front of the girl you were desperately trying to impress with skills you were lying when you said you had. Scott was amazed at himself – somehow, in less than a month his life had gone from horror movie to sitcom. And he still wasn’t sure which was worse.

No pressure.

He returned to the lane with the bowling ball in hand, breathing in deeply. The pins stood ominously at the end of the lane. He swore could almost hear them laughing at him. Or maybe that was Jackson.

“Hey,” Allison’s voice whispered in his ear, “You’re thinking too much.”

Scott stammered, “What?”

“You’re overthinking things,” Allison repeated, “You have to clear your mind and you’ll do great.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Scott asked.

“Think about something else,” Allison shrugged.

Scott gave her a blank look. “Like what?”

Allison shrugged, smiling mischievously. “Think about me. Naked.”

She stepped back, and Scott turned back towards the pins. His attention _completely_ diverted, he simply swung his arm forward and released the ball – it landed and rolled down the lane, smashing directly into the center pin. It took a few seconds for him to realize he’d knocked all of the pins down.

When he returned to his chair, neither Lydia or Jackson was laughing. In fact, Lydia looked almost… enraged? She grabbed her bowling ball and stalked to the end of the lane – where she too scored a seemingly miraculous strike.

As soon as Lydia was back to her own seat, Allison gave her a suspicious look. “That was perfect form. I thought you said you were terrible at this.”

“I am, it was just luck I think,” Lydia twirled her hair around her fingers innocently.

Allison just rolled her eyes and whispered, “I think you should stop pretending to suck just for his benefit.”

Lydia smirked. “I do plenty of sucking just for his benefit.”

Scott groaned inwardly. He would never get to un-hear that.

* * *

 

Derek was never quite sure if he was paranoid or if he was too well trained. Any time a vehicle was behind him for more than a couple miles, he began to wonder if they were hunters.

At this particular moment, he was certain he was being followed. The truck behind him wasn’t even being especially subtle about it – turning on their turn signal whenever Derek did and turning without signaling whenever he did. It was almost as though they wanted him to know. He had to find out what they wanted.

Pulling into a convenient gas station, he parked next to one of the gas pumps and, making an effort to remain casual, hopped out of his Camaro and walked around it to the gas pump. The truck pulled in behind him – stopping just short of hitting the Camaro.

And then an SUV pulled in behind the truck. And another one pulled in from gas stations other entrance and stopped in front of the Camaro. They had him boxed in. Derek was immediately on high alert.

The hunters emerged from their vehicles immediately. Derek recognized one immediately – Chris Argent. He’d caught a glimpse of him in the woods with Scott, but he had hoped the hunter hadn’t seen him. Now it was too late for hope.

“Nice ride,” Chris grinned. His smile was no less eerie than it ever was, “But black? Such a difficult color to take care of, isn’t it? I don’t know how you can even see out of this filthy windshield. You should take better care of what’s yours.” He took a squeegee from its holder next to the gas pump and proceeded to clean the car’s windshield as he continued to talk. “That’s how I treat my family – I take care of them. You wouldn’t know as much about that, there’s not a lot of family left for you to take care of – or to take care of you.”

As scare tactics went, this was… unique. And, yet, effective.

Chris, satisfied with his work on the windshield, returned the squeegee where he’d gotten it. “Now you can see everything. Better be careful.”

“You forgot to check my oil,” Derek managed to growl.

“Bennett,” Chris ordered, without taking his eyes off of Derek, “You heard the man. Check his oil.”

The hunter in question strode purposefully to the driver’s side door of the Camaro, hand gripping the barrel of his gun, and smashed the window. “Looks fine to me.”

“Something like that bus happens again,” Chris warned, all the subtlety and metaphor vanishing, “I’ll have you begging the Slayer to kill you. If she doesn’t want to already.”

Derek stood, stunned, staring at the shattered glass of his window, while the hunters vanished back into their vehicles and drove away. What did they know about the Slayer? What did they know about the bus?

* * *

 

Buffy sat casually on top of a tombstone in the cemetery, the toe of her shoe brushing the grass. “There’s exactly how many graveyards in this town, Giles?”

“Twelve,” Giles replied without missing a beat. Apparently this was something you just needed to know if you were a Watcher.

“So why is our first real patrol just sitting in this one? On a Friday night?”

Giles scowled. “This is the cemetery you encountered the Master’s subjects, is it not? We may have delayed the Master’s rise but he undoubtedly has more vampires following his commands.”

Buffy nodded. “Okay, okay. But a couple counter points: First, they have a whole network of tunnels and they also know I ran into them here. And then consider the fact they’re probably regrouping after, y’know, I handed them their butts the other night? And lastly, it’s a Friday night. I’m sixteen. If I _have_ to patrol I should be doing it somewhere I can also socialize. Like the Bronze?”

“I doubt your friends are there,” Giles shook his head, “Given that their last excursion there was not exactly a teenager’s idea of fun.”

“No, you’re right,” Buffy admitted, “I mean, even I’m still shaken up. Something like that never gets easy – slaying someone you used to be friends with. I can’t believe they had to do it.”

Giles nodded. “It’s jarring for anyone. This is why the Slayer typically works alone.”

“Not gonna happen,” Buffy shook her head, “But I’m fine with not working with those werewolf hunters. Did I tell you about them?”

“No,” Giles quirked an eyebrow, “When did you encounter them?”

“Last night,” Buffy explained – launching into details about her misadventure with Scott and Stiles.

“You’d mentioned that Scott wasn’t a vicious killer,” Giles said as her story finished, “But those hunters are likely to be trouble. The Council has a history of, let’s say, rocky relationships with hunters.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“I suppose we’ll simply have to beat them to the punch every time,” Giles surmised, “If we’re effective enough, eventually they should get bored and leave.”

 Buffy sighed. “Sounds so easy when you say it.”

* * *

 

Jackson slammed his fist down on the pinball machine. He’d lost that game too. This double date was complete bull.

“Jackson,” Scott sidled up next to him, “Look, I know we’ve never gotten along. But I think we should work on that. At least try to respect each other. We don’t have to like each other.”

“I don’t dislike you. But I can’t respect you,” Jackson snapped, fishing in his pocket for quarters to try the game again, “I think you’re a liar.”

“A liar?” Scott crinkled his forehead.

“You cheated tonight,” Jackson scowled.

“I didn’t win, Allison won! Besides, how do you cheat at bowling?”

Jackson turned away from the pinball machine to stare down his opponent. “I don’t know. I don’t know how you suddenly become good at lacrosse either. Or how you suddenly stopped needing an inhaler – yeah, I noticed that too.”

“You’re a real detective, have you talked to the Sheriff about using your gifts for good instead of evil?” Scott quipped, though he could feel the color draining from his face.

Jackson sneered in response, but continued his monologue. “My point is, you have a secret. And I’m pretty certain Allison doesn’t know about it. I think that’s pretty funny, and when I figure you out… I’ll look forward to letting her in on the joke.”

* * *

 

The door clicked shut behind Derek. He was hopeful no one had seen him go in, or heard the door. It was only going to take a few moments to get what he needed from the bus driver – who was, fortunately, awake. His eyes shot to Derek’s face as soon as he stepped into view.

“Hale,” the bed-ridden man stammered.

That was certainly unexpected. “You recognize me,” Derek observed, “How?”

“I’m sorry,” the bus driver whimpered, “I’m terribly sorry.”

“For what?” Derek demanded, “How do you know me?”

There was no answer. The patient’s EKG let out a long continuous beep and Garrison Myers’ head dropped back onto the pillows, lifeless. Derek spun towards the door, alarmed. 

A nurse was already coming in.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Cousin,” Derek said vaguely, “What happened?”

* * *

 

Because Scott did not have his mom’s car, Jackson and Lydia were giving Allison a ride home. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to break away from the group to give him a more private good-bye in the bowling alley parking lot.

“This was fun,” Scott said, fingers entwining with hers, “We should do it again.”

Allison shrugged. “It was alright, but… next time maybe let’s just the two of us hang out. This group thing…. Sucked.”

Scott chuckled. “I’m really glad you said that. Totally sucked.”

“You liar! You just said you had fun!” Allison teased.

“I did,” Scott smiled, “With you.”

Allison returned the smile and leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut as she reached up for the back of Scott’s head – pulling him into her. Their lips met, pressed into each other.

It seemed like a short kiss until Jackson’s voice interrupted. “We’re leaving, Allison. Are you coming with us?”

Allison pulled away, a little embarrassed and a little breathless. “See you at school?” Scott nodded and she turned to join Jackson and Lydia at his Porsche.

* * *

 

“I suppose we can call it a night,” Giles finally relented.

Buffy threw her hands in the air in celebration. “Finally!”

The words were hardly out of her mouth when some huge beast raced through the shadows of the nearby trees, letting out a nearly deafening howl as it went.

Buffy’s eyes met her Watcher’s and she sighed heavily. “I have to chase that, don’t I?”

“Indeed,” Giles nodded, “It could be the creature that attacked the school bus.”

“It would be a big coincidence if there was another big scary animal around,” Buffy replied, “And I don’t believe in coincidences. Or leprechauns.” She took off at a run, disappearing into the woods in the direction the creature had gone.

* * *

 

Scott’s key was already turning in the lock when he heard his mother’s scream. He threw open the door and raced up the stairs – but the voices he heard were anything but alarming.

“Do either of you even play baseball?”

“Stiles! What are you doing here?”

Scott turned the corner. It was pretty much what he’d guessed – Stiles cowering on Scott’s bed and Scott’s mom towering over him with a baseball bat in hand. Stiles must have slipped in through Scott’s open window.

“Scott,” his mother said warningly, “Tell your friend to use the front door like everyone else.”

“We lock the front door,” Scott countered, “He wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“Exactly. By the way, I gave you a curfew, Scott.”

“Yup, sorry,” Scott replied completely unapologetically.

There was a pause, Scott and Stiles both waiting with bated breath for his mom to respond. Finally she shook her head and sighed. “I’ve parented enough tonight. I’m going to bed. Buenas noches.”

She left the room, and Stiles immediately focused on his apparent mission. “So, listen, my dad and I were celebrating his birthday with this cake Willow and I bought. It was like, a two-layer red velvet…”

Focused, Scott reminded himself, was a relative term with Stiles. “You abandoned celebrating your dad’s birthday to give my mom a heart attack?” Scott asked.

“No, he abandoned me to go to the hospital,” Stiles replied, “The bus driver succumbed to his wounds. Do you want to hear more about the cake? Totally broke my dad’s diet but for his birthday I thought it’d be…”

“So Derek’s officially a murderer now,” Scott concluded.

“You don’t want to hear about the cake,” Stiles realized, “You want to go confront Derek, don’t you? But if he attacked the guy, why would he help you to remember?”

Scott shook his head grimly. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

“Okay, I guess, but if he doesn’t kill you, you _have_ to come over and have some of this cake tomorrow.”

* * *

 

Giles caught up to Buffy, panting and gasping for air. “Where is it?”

“It’s too fast for me,” Buffy sighed, sinking to the ground – defeated. “But I did get a better look at it. All my experience with horror movies tells me, it’s a werewolf. Of some kind. Scott can’t transform into something so… animal. But that’s what this is. Glowing red eyes and everything.”

“Red?” Giles pondered aloud, “Didn’t you say Derek’s eyes glowed blue?”

* * *

 

Scott pulled open the door to the Hale house, already shouting. “Derek! He’s dead – you killed him!”

“No, I didn’t,” Derek’s voice replied – echoing around the rickety structure though he was nowhere to be seen.

Scott was surprised to see so much of the inside was intact, actually. Not in good condition, of course, but he could see how someone could easily be squatting in the building. Or hide out here from the law.

“I’m going to tell the Sheriff everything,” Scott retorted, “You killed Mr. Myers. And your own sister.”

“I didn’t kill either of them!” Derek’s voice insisted. Scott could tell now – or guess, at least – that Derek was somewhere on the second floor of the building. He stepped up onto the first stair, which creaked loudly. Nothing about going up these stairs seemed safe, but that hardly mattered.

“I don’t believe you,” Scott argued, “I think you killed both of them, and bit me. You ruined my life. And you ended theirs.”

Derek suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs. “Obviously we need to have a talk. I didn’t bite you. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then who did?”

* * *

 

“I don’t get what the eye color means,” Buffy scratched her head, following Giles through the woods.

“Well, it’s quite simple,” the Watcher explained, “Of course, the eye color of werewolves is something of a mystery to me as I’ve really never studied them. But, what I do know for certain is that the color only changes in remarkable circumstances.”

“Already bored, Giles.”

“Well, if Derek’s eyes glow blue, they would remain blue no matter what shape he shifted into,” Giles summarized.

Buffy gasped as realization hit her. “Then that means…”

* * *

 

“There’s another werewolf.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Scott scowled.

Derek rolled his eyes – and then they began to glow an icy blue. “You want proof? These are my eyes. What color are the eyes you saw on the bus?”

“Red…” Scott answered, his mind suddenly racing.

“That’s an Alpha,” Derek explained, “Strongest kind of werewolf. You and I are Betas. We don’t even have the power to give the Bite to anyone.”

“So, your sister…?”

“She came back to Sunnydale without me,” Derek went on, “I came looking for her. And when I found her, it was too late. She was in pieces. I don’t know who that Alpha is, or how to find him, but he knows what happened to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Alphas transfer their status when they die,” he explained, a little exasperated, “My sister was an Alpha. It transferred into this other wolf. Which either means she’d made him part of our pack, or he killed her.”

Scott nodded, all his anger with Derek gone. The man in front of him – intimidating and awful as he’d been, he seemed so broken and sad now. Scott wondered how often anyone got to see this side of him. He guessed it wasn’t often. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded, a grim smile slipping across his face, “This Alpha bit you. You’re bonded. He wants you for his pack, which means you can find him. You’re the only one who can find him.”

A chill ran up Scott’s spine.

And then they heard the howl.

...to be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of tweaking of the Teen Wolf mythology in here. It had to be done (and, frankly, some of it is because Jeff Davis hasn't answered some questions about how werewolves work :P) but apologies to any mythology-purists out there.


	6. Magic Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Argent hunters call in back up, while the Scooby Gang tries to save an ally of their own from certain death.

The light simply would not change. Its red glow seemed to be a permanent fixture in the night. Kate drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel impatiently. There weren’t even other cars around –Sunday nights were not the most happening time in Sunnydale. The only thing to do was listen to the radio.

Which was on the news, presently. “Police have not made any more leads investigating the series of vicious animal attacks in the Sunnydale area,” the broadcaster was saying.

Kate sighed. What else was new? She flipped the station – Lucy Schwartz. Now that was some good driving music. Finally, the light changed and she rolled forward. After a few minutes, her head was bobbing along to the tune on the radio.

As the song wound to a close, however, something moved in the shadows along the side of the road. Or at least, Kate was sure she’d seen _something_. She looked warily out the window, and then turned to look behind her – only for a moment. When her eyes returned to the road ahead of her, she screamed.

The other driver leaned on his horn as both vehicles swerved to miss each other. Kate slammed on the brakes, putting the car in park until she could calm herself. The pickup truck she’d almost hit vanished from her rearview mirror – but she needed another second or so to catch her breath.

Something thudded heavily on the roof of her car. Instantly, her hand slipped to the loaded sawed-off shotgun in her backseat. One could never be too careful. Just as her finger grasped around the trigger of the gun, glass exploded inward from her left. A clawed hand at the end of a furred arm grabbed at her.

This was much more Kate’s element than swerving around other drivers. She lifted the gun and, aiming only casually, blasted up through the roof of her car. The beast didn’t make a sound like it had been hit, but there wasn’t really any way for her to have missed – and it vanished from the window.

She wasn’t about to give up. She pushed open her passenger side door – in case the monster still lay in wait – and flipped out onto the pavement. Taking a quick survey of her surroundings, she saw no sign of the monster.

But Kate Argent had come to Sunnydale to bag herself an Alpha werewolf – and she wasn’t about to let this one get away from her. “Come on!” she shouted, firing off her shotgun as a warning, “Come _on_!”

She heard a howl, and smirked. That was all she needed – she threw open the back of her SUV and snatched a high-powered rifle, which she quickly strapped over her shoulder. With but a moment of consideration, she grabbed one other thing she was certain she would want on this hunt: her own special ammunition.

* * *

 

At Giles’ suggestion, Scott was joining Buffy on patrol. He had reasoned that, if Derek was telling the truth, it was safer for everyone involved if they could help each other find the Alpha and protect each other from it. Scott wasn’t sure if that was part of why Derek had been following them, and he wasn’t sure if Buffy knew he was there either. Part of him was sure Derek was just following Derek’s own plan – especially since he’d stopped about a block ago.

“I’m not convinced a werewolf is going to be in downtown,” Buffy shrugged, “I’m not convinced about anything except that this thing is bad news.”

Scott returned the gesture. “I just figure it can do more damage here. More people to hurt. So, this is where we want to be sure it isn’t. Right?”

Before Buffy could answer, gunshots echoed from blocks away – followed by a howl. Scott’s eyes glowed gold, and he sprinted away.

* * *

 

“It’s two in the morning,” Allison pointed out groggily, “Where are you going?” She had come downstairs to get a glass of water, only to find her father on his way out to the garage.

Her father spun on his heel – obviously surprised. “Your Aunt Kate called, said she’s having some car trouble. Flat tire.”

Allison furrowed her brow – that answer left her with more questions than answers. She’d known Aunt Kate was coming to visit, but why was she coming at such an odd hour? And, more confusing still, why did her father have a gym bag with him?

He was out the door before she could voice any of these questions.

* * *

 

The blood confirmed Derek’s suspicions – the Alpha he was searching for was somewhere in the area. It smelled of wolf. This alley was a dead end, but the droplets led very clearly down to the end of it.

“He went up,” Derek mused to himself. This was almost too easy.

Derek launched himself onto a dumpster and from there onto the roof. He’d find this werewolf and finally get the answers he needed. It only took a second to find the trail of blood on the rooftops, and Derek gave chase immediately.

He was too focused to notice anything else until the gunshot rang out from below.

* * *

 

Scott skidded to a stop when the next gunshot sounded mere feet from where he stood, and peered around the corner of the building. A woman was standing, poised to fire her rather large gun again. Further away, a car stopped and Mr. Argent stepped out from the driver’s side and into the street.

“Put that away,” he commanded, “What are you doing, Kate?”

The woman – Kate – rolled her eyes. “You called me in to help you find an Alpha werewolf. Can’t do that if the Alpha werewolf kills me first.”

“Taking your gun out in the middle of the street…”

“Oh, chill,” Kate groaned, “It’s the middle of the night on a Sunday in Sunnydale, this is not Manhattan where there’s still six hundred people around. Besides, you should be thanking me.”

“Why’s that?”

“I haven’t even been here five minutes, and I already know more than you did when you called me.” She was very clearly pleased with herself. “There are two werewolves – at least. The one, who attacked me, and another one; smaller and faster, but not faster than a bullet.”

Mr. Argent nodded. “So he’s hit.”

“They’re both hit,” Kate smiled smugly, “Just one of them got hit with something special I cooked up.”

“We need him for information,” Mr. Argent scowled.

“So then we need to find the little bugger sometime in the next 48 hours.”

Scott’s eyes widened. What the hell was she talking about?

“First, we need to get you home,” Mr. Argent was back to tossing out commands, “Allison was asking questions, I don’t want her growing any more suspicious.”

The woman started to argue. “Don’t you—“

“I don’t want to have to explain any more than the car trouble she thinks I’m helping you with right now. Let’s go.”

Kate reluctantly agreed, packing her things and herself into what Scott assumed was her vehicle. Both hunters sped away and out of sight before the young werewolf dared step out from the shadows.

It was almost instant – the sound of sirens blared to life and a hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. Fortunately, it was just Buffy. “We have to get home, now,” she ordered.

“They shot two werewolves here tonight,” Scott protested, “We have to help them.”

Buffy shook her head. “First of all, one of those werewolves is a murderer, remember? Secondly, we have to be in school in less than eight hours and we can’t do that if we get arrested.”

“But…” Scott began to argue again.

Buffy cut him off. “What are you going to tell your mom when you call her from jail? We’ll see what we can do to help them tomorrow, but we need to go.”

* * *

 

The first thing Allison did when she woke up was bounce into the guest room to greet her aunt – who was, fortunately, already awake. She shrieked excitedly. “You’re here!”

“Look at you!” Kate squealed back.

“Of course I’m here,” Kate grinned, “But, look! I haven’t seen you for a year and now you’re some kind of supermodel!”

“You said that same thing a year ago,” Allison chided, doing her best to hide her smile, “And I haven’t even showered yet.”

“I’m so jealous of you, hon, honestly. The boys at school must be knocking each other out trying to get your attention,” Kate gushed.

Allison blushed. “I kind of have a boy.”

Kate’s excitement was uncontainable. “You have one?” she gasped, “Sit down and tell me everything. Can you be late for school today? You’re gonna be late.”

Allison beamed. “Alright, but let me help you unpack.”

She reached for a bag on the floor by the bed, but Kate snatched her arm. “No, don’t touch that one.” An awkward silence descended on them, until finally Kate chuckled. “Look, you got the beauty and the brains in the family, and I got the kung fu death grip. Not fair at all.”

Allison laughed weakly, then opted to change the subject. “Is your car alright?”

Kate shrugged. “I just needed a jump start.”

“Oh,” Allison quirked an eyebrow. “A jump start. Okay.”

* * *

 

“Two werewolves other than you, you mean,” Stiles surmised.

The entire gang had gathered in the school library while Scott related what had transpired the night before.

“Yeah,” Scott nodded.

“So that’s the one that bit and Derek,” Stiles concluded, “Assuming we believe that Derek is not the one that bit you.”

“That lines up with my research,” Willow jumped in, “I did a whole bunch of reading on werewolf bites, because Scott made it sound like only an Alpha can give the bite.”

“That’s what Derek made it sound like, I thought,” Scott added, “Is that wrong?”

“Kinda,” Willow shook her head, “You were definitely bitten by an Alpha though. It’s kinda complicated but it sounds like if you get turned into a werewolf by one that isn’t an Alpha, if you get past the whole probably-fatal thing, you’re still super sick for days afterwards. But Scott was fine the next day.”

“So, we’re believing Derek now?” Xander sighed, “Doesn’t it seem kinda wrong to be siding with a guy who buried half a body next to his house?”

“I’m still scared of him,” Stiles admitted.

“I think we’re all missing the point here,” Scott interjected, “The point is both of them got shot last night. And one of them is either dead or dying.”

“We couldn’t help them last night,” Buffy finished, “Cops. And school today, y’know.”

“What do you propose we do about this situation?” Giles wondered, “We can’t very well find them now – and that is making the assumption that the police did not find them last night.”

The bell rang, signaling first period.

“I guess we’ll deal this issue later,” Scott sighed.

* * *

 

Mr. Curtis’ class had been as silent as possible – despite Scott’s constant urge to talk to Allison, sitting right behind him – until the bell rang. The class breathed a collective sigh of relief and immediately began talking about the tests that he had handed back at the start of class.

“You are coming to my house to study later,” Allison decided – eyeing the red D- written and circled at the top of Scott’s test.

“I have plans,” Scott stammered, his disappoint extremely clear. He had to find those werewolves though.

Allison shrugged. “Cancel them. I know you’re smarter than this.”

“No, but they’re important…” Scott was wracking his brain trying to come up with a viable excuse. Ordinarily, he could have said lacrosse practice – ordinarily he would actually have had lacrosse practice. But Coach Finstock had made a very public announcement that, as a reward for playing so well thus far, he had canceled practice that afternoon.

“More important than passing this class?” Allison frowned, “Come on. Mr. Curtis obviously knows your can do better too.” To emphasize her point, she indicated the scrawled out “What happened? Disappointed!” just under the letter grade.

Scott bit his lip thoughtfully. There had to be something he could say.

“Besides, you didn’t know you didn’t have practice until this morning. What could possibly have come up in the past hour?”

Scott forced a smile. He was going to have to convince Buffy to go on the hunt by herself.

* * *

 

Woozy was a good way to describe Derek at the moment. Vastly understated, but as he weaved unsteadily through the halls of the high school he couldn’t really come up with a better way to describe himself.

Scott’s scent was fading in and out. Of course, Scott had probably been all through the building during the course of the day. It didn’t help that his abilities were just as unsteady as his entire body was. This was futile, at best. Finally, he stopped at a boy rifling through his locker. “’Scuse me,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Like you don’t know me,” the boy quipped, turning. His face fell when he realized the leather-clad man speaking to him probably _didn’t_ actually know him. “I’m Jackson. You okay, slick?”

“Jackson,” Derek attempted to smile though it came out as a grimace, “Could you tell me where Scott McCall is?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Because I asked politely,” Derek scowled, “I’m not asking politely again.”

“I could be persuaded to help you,” Jackson mused, “If you told me what you were selling him. HGH?”

“Steroids?” Derek cocked his head to the side for a moment.

“Yeah,” Jackson glared at him, “Also, pal, time to stop sampling the merchandise. It is not doing good things for your look.”

This was useless. “I will find him myself.”

“We’re not done,” Jackson argued, grabbing onto the sleeve of Derek’s leather jacket. Derek spun, grabbing Jackson by his neck and slamming his face first into the locker. He pulled his hand away – realizing only then that his claws had come out during his attack.

“What the hell is going on?” a woman’s voice rang out from down the otherwise deserted hallway.

“Cordy, this guy is a psychopath,” Jackson snapped – before he could turn around Derek slipped away, around the corner and into the men’s bathroom that was conveniently right there. Once safely hidden in a stall, he sank to the ground and tried to listen for any sign of Scott’s whereabouts.

He picked up on two girls speaking. “So, Scott’s going to your place after school?”

“We’re studying, Lydia, don’t get excited.” He recognized that as Allison’s voice.

“Studying never ends with studying,” the girl – Lydia – replied. There was a quick clicking sound, chalk on a blackboard it sounded like, before she kept going. “Just make sure he, y’know covers up.”

“Covers up?”

“A condom. Oh my goodness, Snow White.”

“We’ve only been on one date,” Allison argued.

“Don’t be a prude,” Lydia urged, “Give him a taste.”

“How much is a taste?”

Lydia scoffed, “You really like him don’t you.”

Derek rolled his eyes. This wasn’t at all what he wanted to know. In fact, he distinctly didn’t want to know any of this. All he wanted to know was where Scott was at that exact moment.

“He’s different,” Allison continued, “I was planning to have no boyfriends until college. I move too much. But, like, as soon as I met him I knew I couldn’t stick with the plan. I can’t explain it.”

Derek groaned. He could gag.

“It’s your brain flooding with phenylethylamine,” Lydia responded, “When is he coming over?”

“Right after school.”

Finally, something _useful_.

* * *

 

“Do you want to ride into downtown and look around for werewolves?” Stiles proposed, as he and Scott strolled out of the school building.

Scott shook his head. “I can’t. I want to but I have to go to Allison’s house to study. My grades are…”

“You’re going to Allison’s house to study and you’re genuine talking to me about your grades?” Stiles interrupted, “No. You’re not actually studying.”

“I’m not?”

“No!” Stiles exclaimed, “I am living vicariously through your relationship. If you squander this opportunity, I’m going to have you neutered.”

The two parted ways, as Scott headed for the bike rack and Stiles made his way to his Jeep in the parking lot. As usual, Stiles had offered Xander and Willow rides as well – Willow had insisted on staying in the library to do more research on werewolves. She was, apparently, completely fascinated now that she’d found reliable sources. Xander, however, was already waiting at the Jeep.

“Are we going home or are we going on a werewolf hunt?” Xander asked, “Scott asked Buffy to do it, but you have that look.”

“What look?” Stiles asked, “I don’t have any looks.”

“It’s the ‘something exciting is happening’ face,” Xander insisted, “Like I haven’t seen it a hundred times before.”

“I was thinking of going looking for werewolves,” Stiles admitted, clambering up into the Jeep. Xander sighed and pulled himself into the passenger seat. The Jeep rolled out of the parking space, and accelerated towards the exit of the lot.

And then a man in a leather jacket stepped out in front of them, hand up as though directing traffic to stop. Which, in a sense, he was.

“Derek Hale!” Stiles exclaimed. “This guy is everywhere!”

“On the bright side, we found what we hadn’t started looking for yet,” Xander pointed out, pushing open the passenger side door.

Before the duo from the Jeep reached Derek, he collapsed on the ground. Scott raced over, reaching him at just about the same time as Stiles and Xander. “This isn’t happening, not here,” Scott protested, “We have to get him out of here.”

“What happened to you?” Stiles asked, as Derek’s eyes fluttered open.

“Got shot,” Derek groaned, “Can’t heal. Special bullet.”

“Silver?”

“Don’t think so,” Derek shook his head, “Wolfsbane.”

“Everything that hunter lady said last night is making sense now,” Scott said, “She said you’ve got 48 hours to live.”

“Don’t think it’s that long,” Derek replied, “Poison’s moving really fast.” He reeled back in a wave of pain, gritting his teeth. His eyes glowed blue.

“Stop that!” Scott ordered, “You cannot shift at my school!”

“I can’t control it,” Derek hissed.

“Can we get him to the library?” Xander suggested, “Giles can probably help.”

“Call Willow, yeah,” Scott nodded, “But how can we get him past all the kids leaving right now? I mean, there’s already people watching.”

As if to emphasize his point, someone honked their horn.

“Get him in the Jeep,” Stiles sighed, “I hate all you werewolf people.”

The three of them helped to lift Derek and shove him unceremoniously into the cramped backseat of Stiles’ Jeep. Once that was accomplished, Xander crawled back into the passenger seat and Stiles took his position behind the wheel.

“Get him out of here,” Scott urged, “I’ll call Buffy. Xander, call Willow.”

“We need a sample,” Derek grunted from the backseat.

“She’s an Argent, right?” Stiles asked.

Scott nodded. “Guess I know what I’m doing other than studying tonight.”

The Jeep sped away, leaving Scott standing in front of a line of frustrated drivers. As he made his way back to his bike, Allison’s voice stopped him. “I thought you weren’t friends with him?”

Scott spun on his heel. “Oh, I’m not. Stiles was giving him a ride because his car… It’s a long story. Not very interesting.”

Allison’s forehead furrowed. “Okay.”

“We’re still studying together, right?”

“Yeah, did you want a ride?”

Scott shook his head, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bike rack. “I’m gonna bike it. See you at your place.” He kissed her cheek and, grinning at her, continued his walk back to the bike rack.

* * *

 

Buffy was still in the library with Giles when Scott called her – almost simultaneous to when Xander called Willow. Once they were all caught up on the situation with Derek, all three immediately jumped into action.

“If Derek got hit with the special bullet, the Alpha is probably healing fine,” Buffy realized, “I’m going to see how far the blood trail goes. Maybe we can get some clues.”

Willow nodded, “They asked if I can look into the wolfsbane thing. If there’s a cure, I’ll find it. There has to be one, right?”

Giles seemed the most unsure of any of them. “Not that I’ve read of, but this is not where most of my studies have focused.”

“So you’ve said,” Buffy said glumly, “Do you think there’s some kind of Watcher group for werewolves? Like, there’s bound to be a werewolf expert somewhere in this town, right? That isn’t a werewolf or a werewolf hunter, I mean.”

An idea seemed to strike Giles just then. “Perhaps. I’ll have to make some calls.”

* * *

 

Scott skidded his bike to a halt in Allison’s driveway just as her car pulled in. His timing was, apparently, a little off.

“How did you get here at the same time as me?” Allison asked, stepping out of the driver’s seat.

“Short cut,” Scott stammered, “Really, extra short. The shortest cut.”

Allison giggled. “You are acting all kinds of bizarre today.”

“Stressed,” Scott admitted. “Things are crazy.”

“Things?” Allison prodded.

“Classes,” Scott fibbed, “I’m not doing as good as I did last year.” Most of that was true at least.

“Doing as well,” Allison corrected him with a smirk.

“See? Exactly.”

“We’re definitely starting with English then,” Allison smirked as she pushed open the front door.

Scott hesitated before crossing the threshold.

“Nobody will be home for hours,” Allison assured him, “And I don’t know why you’re so nervous anyways.”

“No reason,” Scott lied again.

* * *

 

Allison suddenly seemed embarrassed as she led Scott into her room. Her room full of cardboard boxes loaded with her belongings. “Still unpacking,” she said.

“Okay,” Scott nodded, “But haven’t you been here for like a month?”

“I’m taking my time,” Allison shrugged.

Scott took his backpack off, placing it carefully on the bed. “So, aside from English, I need some help with…”

As he turned around again, he found Allison was immediately in front of him. He froze, for a moment, and she took hold of the opportunity – kissing him and giving him a playful shove, knocking him onto the bed. She laid over him, her lips dancing playfully over his, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

Scott made a mental note not to cut his hair too soon. His fingers trailed down her spine… and then suddenly he felt his fingers lengthen, claws emerging. In a panic he did the only thing he could think – he shoved his hand under her blanket.

“Are you okay?” Allison asked, noticing the movement.

Scott inhaled nervously. “Absolutely.”

“You’re sure?”

“I just don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

Allison laughed. “Believe me, I’m not. Are you?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question?”

“Good, then where were we?” She kissed him again – but his phone erupted into song.

“You gonna get that?” she breathed, her lips still touching his as she spoke.

“It’s… it’s just Stiles. He’ll leave a voice mail,” Scott replied nonchalantly. He pressed his lips to hers… and then his life came crashing back into memory. “I actually do have to get that.” He reached for his phone – delighted to find his claws had retreated again.

Stiles had given up and sent a text instead. “Do you have it yet?” was all it said.

Glancing over at Allison, Scott typed, “Need more time.”

* * *

 

“I don’t have more time!” Stiles exclaimed at the phone, “I’m trying not to have this psycho bleed out in my Jeep, Scott! Come on!”

Derek squirmed uncomfortably and let out a noise that sounded like he was in incredible pain.

“We’re almost there, relax,” Xander urged from the front seat.

“Where?” Derek asked.

“Your house,” Xander answered.

Derek shot upright. “Can’t go there.”

“I can’t take you to your house?” Stiles snapped, “Are you kidding right now?”

“Can’t protect myself.”

Xander laughed. “We’re on protection detail for a werewolf.” When his amusement had subsided, he added more seriously, “This is actually our life now, Stiles. Really.”

“If Scott can’t find this ‘magic bullet’, are you going to die?” Stiles asked, pulling to the side of the road.

Derek shook his head and began rolling up his sleeve. “I have a last resort.”

Xander caught sight of the wound as the fabric pulled away from it. “That’s disgusting. Tell me that’s not contagious.”

“Start the car,” Derek ordered.

“You just told us you can’t protect yourself and now you want to be in charge?” Xander scoffed, “That’s a load of crap.”

“We could probably just dump him in the street and leave him for dead,” Stiles suggested.

“I will rip both you throats out with my teeth,” Derek snarled, “Start the car.”

Stiles sighed and put the Jeep into gear again. “Tell us more about this ‘last resort’, alright.” 

* * *

 

Willow was relieved to find there was a way to cure a werewolf of wolfsbane poison – although the web site she’d found cautioned against doing so. “Wounds infected with wolfsbane poisoning are likely to hurt even after being cleansed,” the site warned, “And a wounded werewolf is the most dangerous kind.”

“That’s comforting,” she sighed, clicking past the warning message to get to the actual formula.

Meanwhile, she could hear Giles’ voice from his office. “Well, I do thank you for the entire lack of information, Quentin,” he intoned coldly, “Give my best to everyone else.”

The sound of a landline phone slamming down into its cradle followed shortly after.

* * *

 

Scott’s phone powered down. He was reluctant, but he knew what he had to do and Allison wanted – and deserved – his full attention. He put it on the bedside table – and caught sight of a photograph in a box. It was of Allison’s father and the woman he’d seen last night. “Who’s this?”

“My Aunt Kate,” Allison said, reaching across Scott’s lap and taking the photo out of the box, “She’s my dad’s sister. But really, she’s more like my sister in a lot of ways. She’s actually visiting right now, got here last night.” She started to veer off into her own thoughts, “Had some car trouble last night, I guess.”

“She looks familiar,” Scott mused.

Allison shrugged. “She used to live in Sunnydale. Maybe you saw her.”

“What else is in this box?” Scott said, with a mischievous grin. He reached in a pulled out a stack of papers – black and white photographs.

“Oh stop it,” Allison pleaded, “That’s from when I thought I was good at photography, but no, I’m terrible.”

“I like them!” Scott protested, flipping through the stack.

“The framing’s off, and don’t get me started on the lighting,” Allison reached into the box and pulled out another handful of papers. “These are from when I thought I might be a painter. Also terrible.”

Scott grinned, reaching in and taking out a notebook with the word “POETRY” drawn across the cover, surrounded by decorative swirls and squiggles.

“No, no, no,” Allison snatched the notebook away from him. “That’s from when I tried poetry and terrible doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“Okay,” Scott gave up on the box and turned to Allison. “What are you good at?”

Allison looked embarrassed for a moment and then said, sheepishly, “If I show you, promise not to laugh.”

* * *

 

Buffy had found where the trail of blood began, and had traced it into a dead end alley, where the blood simply disappeared. He must’ve gone up the building – of course, what route he took to get up there was another story. She’d have to climb up and find the trail again.

She launched herself up onto the dumpster and from there vaulted onto the rooftop. She started creeping along the roof – it was still daylight and she really didn’t want to have to explain this to anyone.

Even when she found more of the blood, the trail was not going to be easy to follow. Whichever one had been hit below must’ve been moving at an incredible speed, leaving huge gaps between each drop.

“This is going to take forever,” she groaned, “This better be worth it.”

* * *

 

“I was nationally ranked as a kid, dad wanted me to stick with it but we move so much, I didn’t want to abandon any teams or anything,” Allison explained.

Scott was busily observing the walls of the Argent family’s garage – lined with boxes and weapons locked in gun cases. It was unnerving, to put it mildly. He  turned to look at her – and found himself face to face with a drawn bow. He stumbled backwards. “What is that?”

“A compound bow,” Allison smiled, “But it’s not dangerous without an arrow.”

Scott nodded. “You’re good at archery.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Allison reminded him.

“And I am absolutely not laughing,” Scott’s eyes darted back to the walls. He wondered if the wolfsbane sample he needed might be in this very room. “So, all these guns?”

“We’re not a separatist gun nut family, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Allison explained, leading him around the van parked between her and the largest gun display. “My dad sells firearms to law enforcement.”

“Are you going to join the family business?” Scott wondered.

She shrugged and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Would I look hot with a gun?”

“Hotter without one,” Scott said, moving into kiss her. Just as their lips touched, the garage door squealed to life.

Allison grabbed Scott’s hand and dragged him down into a crouched position next to the van.

Kate’s voice, which Scott would recognize anywhere after what he’d heard her say last night, rang out. “Chris, it’s not the ‘50s. I’m not bringing all the groceries in by myself.”

“Be right there,” Mr. Argent’s voice answered. Suddenly he appeared around the van, staring at Allison and Scott. “You two mind helping?”

* * *

 

Buffy was certain she would never get used to how quickly night fell in this town. It was only thanks to the flashlight app on her phone that she was even still able to track the blood – which had descended from the rooftops some ways from downtown and was heading towards the woods. She couldn’t imagine how difficult this was going to be once she was in an even darker area. Almost impossible, she reasoned.

Her phone started vibrating wildly in her hand. With a groan, she answered Stiles’ phone call. “What’s going on?”

“Scott’s phone is off,” Stiles announced, “And we have a situation.”

“Last count we had a few, didn’t we?” Buffy smirked, “Cut the dramatics, what’s happening?”

“Derek passed out,” Stiles went on, “Xander says he’s still breathing.”

“Didn’t you take him home?” Buffy asked.

“No,” Stiles answered, “He wouldn’t let us. So we’ve just been driving around aimlessly for a while, trying to get a hold of Scott. He’s got to meet us once he gets the sample.”

“Take him back to the library?” Buffy offered, “By now you should be able to sneak him in without anybody seeing you. And Stiles? Next time have Xander call. You’re driving.”

“Yeah, good tip,” Stiles said dismissively. There was a click, as he ended the call.

* * *

 

“This is the last of the groceries,” Scott said, handing a paper bag to the expectant Mr. Argent.

“Good,” the older man nodded, “Now get on your bike and go home.”

Allison interjected. “We were studying tonight.”

“You will concentrate better on your own,” Mr. Argent countered.

“Oh, please,” Kate cut in from where she was locking up the car, “They were making out in the garage, Chris, not shooting amateur porn.”

“It’s okay,” Scott assured everyone, “I can study at home.”

Kate came up the steps from locking up the car. “You are staying for dinner. I want to learn more about you, Mr. Adorable Brown Eyes.”

“Thanks, but…”

Mr. Argent smiled. It did not make Scott any more comfortable with the situation. “You don’t know better than to argue with my sister, but if she says you’re staying for dinner… you are.”

“Okay,” Scott stammered, the color draining from his face.

“You eat meat, don’t you?”

* * *

 

“I’m so glad you decided to join us for dinner,” Allison’s mother smiled magnanimously a Scott, “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”

“It does give us a chance to get to know you,” Mr. Argent agreed.

 “Would you like something to drink besides water?” Mrs. Argent asked.

Scott shook his head politely. “No, no, this is fine.”

“Sure?” Mr. Argent offered, “We’ve got beer. Tequila…”

Allison shot a glare at her father. “Really?”

“Water’s fine,” Scott reiterated.

“So, you don’t drink, Scott?” Mr. Argent leaned forward attentively.

Scott shook his head again. “No, I’m not old enough.”

Mrs. Argent gave her husband a knowing look. “That doesn’t stop many teenagers.”

“But it should,” Scott replied. Allison’s sigh of relief was loud enough, even her parents would have heard it.

Kate leaned back in her seat and clapped her hands appreciatively. “That was a good answer. Total lie, but I am impressed. You may yet survive the night.”

“Do you smoke pot?” Mr. Argent wasn’t giving up so easily.

Scott started shaking his head again, but Kate jumped in. “Allison tells us you play lacrosse, is that true? I have to admit, I don’t know anything about that game. How do you play?”

“It’s like hockey, but on grass,” Scott started to explain.

“That’s field hockey,” Mr. Argent said sternly.

Allison rolled her eyes and, obviously frustrated, continued Scott’s explanation. “So, imagine field hockey but with nets on the end of the sticks.”

“So, it’s violent like hockey?” Kate asked, “I like it already.”

“Scott’s really great at it too,” Allison gushed, “Dad came with me to the first game, he scored the winning shot.”

“It was the only time he scored the entire game,” Mr. Argent pointed out blandly.

“But he ripped a hole in the goalie’s net, it was incredible!” Allison beamed proudly, ignoring her father as best as she could.

Mr. Argent seemed determined to deflate his daughter’s pride. “I would guess the goalie’s net was defective.”

“Dad!” Allison practically growled.

Scott took hold of her hand, hoping to calm her. “Y’know, I think I’ll take that shot of tequila now,” he joked.

Silence descended on the table for a moment, and then – almost simultaneously, all three elder Argents began to chuckle. Kate nodded appreciatively. Maybe this dinner wasn’t going to so badly after all.

* * *

 

Thus far in his tenure as librarian, Giles had used the side door – tucked away past the shelves and leading directly outside to the school’s parking lot – exactly once. It was intended as an emergency exit, but it wasn’t equipped with an alarm and it proved useful for avoiding Principal Flutie when leaving school grounds.

It had, as far as he knew, never been used as an entrance before. As soon as the frantic pounding began, Giles shoved the door open. Xander and Stiles struggled to drag an unconscious man inside.

“This must be Derek,” Giles observed.

“This man’s got a firm grasp on the obvious,” Stiles remarked, between grunts of effort, “Might even call it a chokehold.”

“How long has he been unconscious?” Giles asked, ignoring the disparaging comment.

Xander shrugged, “He’s been in and out for a while.”

As though proving the point, Derek suddenly shook his head and roared back to life – in that he pulled himself away from the two teenage boys and promptly collapsed on the ground, shouting in agony.

“Well, he’s not dead,” Giles reflected, “But I would guess we have considerably less time than the hunter had indicated.”

“How much time?” Xander asked. Though he was trying to convey a certain nonchalance, both he and Stiles appeared to be worried about their charge in spite of themselves.

“Once the poison reaches my heart,” Derek grunted through gritted fangs, “That’s when I’m dead.”

“How do we tell when that’s going to happen?” Stiles wondered.

In one swift, although clearly pained, motion, Derek managed to sit up and lift his shirt over his head. The exertion seemed to be too much for him, he fell backwards to the floor and was unconscious again. The bullet wound on his arm was oozing black and purple fluids, and the veins up to almost his shoulder stood out, bulging and black, from the considerable muscles of his arm.

“You can see the poison pumping through his body,” Willow explained, joining them, a few printed pages in her hands. “I think I finally found something, but we need a sample of the wolfsbane and we need an herb.”

* * *

 

“Viper’s bulgoss?” Scott repeated. Stiles had come up with the bright idea of texting Allison and having her tell Scott to call him. She did not seem thrilled, but Scott was grateful to get away from the dinner table for a few minutes.

“It’s also called echium vulgare?” Willow said, “We’re going to try to figure out a place in town to get some.”

“Echium vulgare?” Scott questioned, “Are you sure? Dr. Deaton has some at the vet’s clinic.”

“Okay,” Willow replied, “Can you call him?”

Scott shook his head, not that she could hear that. “He’ll have gone home for the night. There’s a under the lid of the mailbox. I’ll meet you guys there as soon as I can. I just have to find the right bullet in this… Walmart of guns.”

He ended the call, and slid his phone back in his pocket. Now he really had to find that bullet. No more stalling. Of course, finding the right kind of bullet in this place was going to take a lot of time.

“Everything alright?” Kate asked, appearing around the corner and leaning casually against the wall. “You look like a little lost puppy.”

“I just need a bathroom,” Scott stammered.

Kate pointed down the hall. “There’s one off the guest bedroom. Go ahead.”

Scott nodded and obediently headed down the hall into the guest bedroom. As he flipped on the light switch, he immediately noticed the gym bag tucked under the bed. He could easily guess that it was Kate’s – which meant it might just have her ammunition.

He would need to handle this carefully. Thinking quickly, he shut the door to the guest bedroom, and dove for the gym bag. He hastily dug through it – he was certainly right, the bag was full of ammunition. There was a wooden box with a leaf engraved on it, and the words “Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique” carved in ornate lettering.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, opening his “Translator” app and typing the letters from the box into it. “Nordic Blue Monkshood”, the app told him. His eyes darting to the door, he relayed this information to Willow by a text message.

Not even a minute passed before she replied to his text, but the seconds ticked by with such slow and stressful tension he could have sworn it was an hour. “Derek says that’s a rare kind of wolfsbane,” her text read.

That was all he needed. Scott popped open the lid – inside were bullets, carefully held in carved sockets. One socket was empty – that was the bullet that had hit Derek, clearly. Scott took another bullet and slipped that in his pocket next to his phone.

Putting the box and bag back exactly as he remembered finding them, he headed into the guest bathroom and flushed the toilet. Then, he washed his hands in the sink and returned – with an amplified feeling of dread – to the dinner table. He sincerely hoped this would all be over soon.

“Just in time for dessert,” Mrs. Argent proclaimed as he reappeared.

“Allison was telling us that you work for a vet,” Mr. Argent announced, “Tell us, what does your boss think about the recent animal attacks?”

Scott shrugged. “Everyone says it’s a mountain lion.”

“Awfully big mountain lion,” Kate scoffed.

“Mostly we just get cats and dogs,” Scott said vaguely.

“Ever had to deal with a rabid animal?” Mr. Argent inquired. Something about the question seemed awfully accusatory. Which really didn’t surprise Scott much. “I grew up with a lot of dogs. One became rabid – it wasn’t sudden. It’s a slow descent into madness. But eventually, they’ll attack anything that moves. Even caged, they’ll break their own teeth trying to escape. Harmless animals turned into vicious killers just from a single bite.”

“But it died,” Allison finished. She obviously heard this story a hundred times, at least.

Mrs. Argent nodded. “Well, your grandfather shot it.”

“To put it out of its misery,” Allison insisted.

“Because something that out of control is better off dead,” Mr. Argent said firmly, a steady gaze leveled at Scott.

* * *

 

The group dragged Derek – still conscious but only barely – into the backroom of the Sunnydale Veterinary Clinic. Well, more accurately, Stiles, Xander and Giles dragged Derek. Willow unlocked the door, and brought the pages she’d printed inside.

Once they were all inside, she set about trying to find the herb that Dr. Deaton was mysteriously keeping a supply of. According to her research, its only standard medicinal use was to treat snakebites – something about viper’s bulgoss made it effective for removing poisons mystically, but that was all she’d been able to dig up in the time she’d had. The vet had almost a whole wall of shelves filled with samples of medication, and a strange collection of seemingly random herbs. Digging through them could take more time than they had, so Willow silently but quickly went to work.

Meanwhile, she could hear the boys being anything but quiet in their current disagreement. “What happens if Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet soon?” Xander asked.

“Then, presumably, he dies,” Giles stated.

“No,” Derek protested weakly, “There’s another way.”

“No,” Stiles countered, “I am not going to be a part of your Plan B.”

“Plan B?” Giles gave the others a puzzled stare.

Derek nodded, holding onto the metal table for support. “We can amputate my arm. It will heal.”

“It won’t grow back,” Giles pointed out.

Xander shrugged. “I’ll cut it off if nobody else wants to. What do we do that with?”

“Bone saw,” Derek suggested.

Xander nodded. “I’ll go look for that.”

“That’s gonna make me pass out,” Stiles complained.

Giles smirked. “The sight of blood?”

“No,” Stiles replied, “But I think the sight of a chopped off arm might.”

Xander chuckled. “It wasn’t all that long ago that you wanted to drag us all out into the woods to find half a body, remember?”

“It’s different when they’re dead,” Stiles said, “And a total stranger. Sorry, Derek.”

Derek was not offended – in fact, Derek was collapsing to the ground. Again.

* * *

 

“I am so sorry,” Allison said as she walked Scott to the front door, “That was the most awkward, terrible dinner of all time. In the entire history of bad dinners, this was the worst.”

“Not really,” Scott shrugged, “You never had a dinner with my parents while they were still together. Or, worse, that first dinner with just my mom. This was somewhere in the top ten though, I’m sure.”

“Hold on,” Kate appeared in the foyer behind them, “Gotta ask Scott a question.”

“Me?” Scott looked nervously at Allison, who looked back apologetically.

“Yeah, you,” Kate answered, stopping just inches from him. “What did you take from my bag?”

“What?” Scott asked.

Kate’s friendly demeanor was gone almost instantly. “Do you need me to speak more clearly? What did you take from my bag?”

“Nothing!” Scott could only imagine how bad this could go for him if they found out the truth.

“What is going on?” Mr. Argent inquired, coming out into the foyer himself.

Kate sighed. “My bag was unzipped in the guest room. I hadn’t left it open.”

“Scott didn’t take anything—“ Allison protested.

“Then he can prove it,” Kate demanded, “I don’t know if he’s a klepto, or curious, or maybe just stupid. But I know something was taken from my bag. Empty your pockets, Scott.”

“I can prove it,” Allison announced, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a wrapped condom. “I took something from your bags, Aunt Kate. Can we seriously cut this out?”

“You took a… oh, this is your territory, Chris,” Kate smirked.

“I’m gonna go now,” Scott said weakly, trying not to smile.

* * *

 

Giles tied a rubber tube around Derek’s arm. It could cut off blood flow, hopefully buying them a few more minutes and stemming some of the blood if Xander had to do the unthinkable. “We’re running out of time,” he reminded everyone.

Xander, bone saw in hand, was having second thoughts.  “Why can’t you do this, Giles?”

“Someone better be ready to cut off my arm,” Derek snarled, “Or I’ll be cutting off some heads.”

“I don’t think we’re really buying those threats anymore, wolf-man,” Stiles quipped, “You’re literally at death’s door. What are you doing?”

Derek rolled over on the floor and retched an inky black substance. “My body is trying to heal,” he gasped, before vomiting more of the liquid into the puddle on the floor.

“Not doing too good a job,” Stiles observed.

“We have to do it now,” Derek orderd.

“Do what now?” Scott asked, bursting into the door.

Stiles just grinned. “You are saving me so much money on therapy right now.”

Xander put the bone saw down on the table and yelled to Willow, “Do you have it?”

“Echium vulgare!” Willow exclaimed triumphantly, “I have the best timing, don’t I?”

She dumped out a portion of the glass bottle’s herbs onto the metal table. Giles, then, took the bullet from Scott and pulled it apart – dumping a wolfsbane powder onto the table. He took a lighter from his pocket, and set the herbal mixture ablaze. It burned bright, hot, and fast – leaving only a pile of ashes moments later. He hastily brushed the ashes into the palm of his hand, and brought them to Derek.

Derek was sprawled on the floor, gritting his teeth and doing his best not to move or pass out. Giles pressed the ashes to his wound for a moment, digging his fingers into the opening left by the bullet. Suddenly, Derek screamed.

Everyone, including Giles, leapt back. Derek writhed and twisted on the floor, howling. The blackness that coursed through his veins, however, receded and vanished only seconds later.

“That was awesome!” Stiles shouted.

Once Derek had stopped moving – just lying on the floor panting – Scott stepped forward to offer him a hand up. “Are you okay now?”

“Except for the agonizing pain.”

Xander sighed. “I always take sarcasm as a sign of health.”

“Okay,” Scott decided it was time to get down to business, “We saved your life. So, you’re going to stop threatening us, and start being more helpful; and nicer, in general. Or I’m going to tell the hunters everything I know about you.”

“You would trust them?” Derek nearly spat the words.

Scott shrugged. “No, but I don’t have much reason to trust you either. How long did it take you to tell me anything I needed to know?”

“Obviously I haven’t told you everything you need to know yet,” Derek growled, “The hunters are not good people. They’re not nice and they won’t care if you are. I’ve got something to show you, Scott.”

* * *

 

Once they arrived at the Sunnydale Assisted Living Community, in a caravan of three vehicles once Derek had been brought to his own car, Derek insisted that only Scott could come inside. This was, of course, met with protests by everyone else though Derek remained steadfast.

“How many people do you think I can get inside at this hour?” he snapped, finally.

And so, a very confused Scott was led inside. Derek carefully led him through winding halls full of the feeble and the elderly and finally to a room at the end of a hallway. The light in the hallway outside had burned out – it seemed as though this room had been all but forgotten.

Derek pushed open the door, shutting it behind Scott. There was a dim lamp in the corner, which cast an eerie light across the rest of the room. The room was empty, save a bed and one bedside stand… and a wheelchair with a man in it.

“Who is that?”

“My uncle Peter,” Derek answered softly.

“He’s a werewolf?” Scott guessed.

“He used to be,” Derek replied, “Now he’s just…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words. And then he turned the wheelchair – revealing half of the man’s face marred by horrendous scars and burns. He barely looked human at all. “Six years ago, our house caught fire. Laura and I were at school – Sunnydale High, believe it or not. But eleven people were at the house, trapped inside. He was the only one who survived.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “And you think the Argents set the fire? Why?”

“They were the only ones who knew about us,” Derek said – his anger returning to his voice now. “They say they need justification and proof to kill a werewolf. They say they have a code, that they’ll only kill adults and only if they are completely certain that they’re werewolves. But what could justify this? There were kids in that fire. And people in our family who were completely human. _This_ is what hunters do. _This_ is what Allison will do. If they find out you so much as know about me, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill everyone you care about. They think we’re monsters, Scott, but it’s them. They’re monsters.”

The door clicked open behind them and a voice cut through the air. “What are you doing in here?”

Derek and Scott both spun, the nurse who’d walked in on them was staring sternly at them. “We’re leaving,” Derek replied. Without another moment, Derek swiftly led Scott from the building.

Buffy stood outside the building, arms folded across her chest. “The blood leads here,” she announced, not greeting them at all, “And you guys are all here. Someone fill me in.”

Scott spared Derek, by relating all that he had just learned inside.

“So, what?” Buffy shrugged, “Are we thinking Derek’s uncle is the Alpha?”

“It’s impossible,” Scott shook his head, “He’s a vegetable. Comatose. Sorry, Derek.”

“Maybe Laura did this,” Derek reasoned, “Set up a werewolf to guard Peter in case the hunters came back to finish him off?”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “And so why murder the bus driver?”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugged.

“Can’t you sniff out who it is?” Scott asked.

Derek shook his head. “Alphas can hide their scent. The only werewolf scent I can pick up is my uncle’s.”

Buffy sighed. “I think we have more questions now than answers. Werewolves are a lot more complicated than vampires, and I’m not a fan.”

* * *

 

“How many werewolves did you say there were?” Kate asked, closing the door to Chris’ office behind him.

“We saw two in the woods,” Chris answered, leaning back in his desk chair, “We know there is an Alpha. We don’t know for sure it was one of the two.”

“So two or three,” Kate mused, “That might’ve been nice to know on the phone.”

“Could be even more,” Chris shrugged, “Why?”

“There was something else missing from my bag,” Kate explained, “A bullet.”

“A wolfsbane bullet for your assault rifle,” Chris concluded.

“Scott had to have taken it,” Kate reasoned, leaning on the mantle of the fireplace, “Which means, if he isn’t a werewolf, he knows something about them.”

“The Slayer is their age,” Chris pointed out, “Might be that he’s friends with her.”

“A Slayer with friends?” Kate almost laughed outright, “Friends who steal from us to save werewolves? That’d be a wicked twist. All the same, what will we do about Scott?”

“I think we need to put a stop to this thing with Allison,” Chris reasoned, “And I’d guess we don’t have to go searching for our wounded wolf tonight. If he has the bullet, he – or someone – must know how to use it.”

“You’re half right,” Kate said with a mischievous grin, “We won’t find any werewolves tonight, I’m sure. But if we keep our enemies close... If we let him keep seeing Allison, like we have no idea about any of this, we may just find our werewolf all the same.”

“We’re not killing children,” Chris said sharply, “We have a Code.”

Kate smirked, taking a poker from the fireplace stand. “Why so worried, Chris?” She jabbed the iron spike into the flames, sending up a shower of sparks. “I always follow the rules.”

 

**...to be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! As the weather gets warmer, work gets a lot busier. I don't know if I'd expect the next chapter ("The Witch") to be up before September (and I'm really sorry about that too!)
> 
> There was some more fudging with the "rules" for Teen Wolf's werewolves in this chapter. I am trying to stay as faithful to TW's werewolves as I can but I had to do a little tweaking for things coming much later on.
> 
> PS Is "skidded" a word? Does anyone know? I used it, so I guess it's a word now. :P


	7. The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy tries to take up a safe hobby like cheerleading, but finds even that can be dangerous on the Hellmouth. Meanwhile, Scott gets sidetracked in his mission to identify the Alpha Werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long to get up. Life has been crazy!
> 
> Some of the lore for this episode is directly taken from Supernatural and Charmed, but I didn't delve too deeply into it.

Giles stared, horror etched on his features. “This is madness.”

“They’re the school colors,” Buffy shook a pom-pom at him, “Can’t be helped. I told you I was going to try out for the cheerleading squad.”

Giles scowled. “You have a sacred and important destiny, fighting evil. Instead you want to spell out the word ‘ugly’. It will not stand.

“Oh, whatever, Giles,” Buffy countered, “I’m sixteen. Barely. Destiny or no, I want to do something normal. With normal people. Something safe. I will still fight evil. I’ll just do it with some pep!”

Finally, Giles let out a frustrated sigh. “I suppose there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.

“Try outs are in ten minutes,” Buffy shrugged, “Bye!” She waved her pom-pom in the air and bounced out of the library without a backwards glance.

* * *

“I could’ve told you he wasn’t gonna like it,” Willow said sympathetically as Buffy told her friends what had just transpired.

Buffy groaned, “I don’t know what he’s so uptight about. No vampires since the Harvest and no werewolf attacks for days. Hunters have been busy but unless the Alpha is Derek’s comatose uncle, we’ve got nothing to go on. What does he expect me to be doing?”

“Giles needs a girlfriend,” Stiles jumped in.

“Yeah, get on that, Stiles,” Xander smirked.

Stiles shook his head. “I need to get one for my dad first. But, hey, Scott, your mom…”

“No.” Scott’s response came quickly and firmly. Clearly, he wasn’t as amused as Stiles thought he was going to be.

“Don’t even pretend to suggest my mother,” Buffy added.

“The point is, we support you one hundred percent!” Willow steered the conversation back on topic, “School spirit, rah rah rah!”

“People knock school spirit all the time,” Xander said, his attention drifting to a girl doing stretches across the gymnasium, “But this is important. These young women pouring their heart and soul out…”

“You don’t have to pretend that scantily-clad women are a spiritual experience for my benefit,” Buffy scoffed.

“Pretending?” Xander chuckled, “Oh, wait! I got a thing for you, for luck!”

“A thing?” Buffy raised her eyebrows, smiling.

“A thing?” Willow asked – she looked considerably less pleased.

“A thing?” Stiles asked, looking confused.

Xander fished in his pocket and produced a silver I.D. bracelet that he held out to Buffy. Buffy took it, obviously charmed. “That is so sweet, Xander,” she beamed, reading the inscription. “’Yours always…’”

“They all said that,” Xander added quickly.

“Look at that Amber, she oughta be working at Coyote Ugly,” Cordelia quipped, appearing beside the gang. She hadn’t tried out for the squad previously – too busy building her social empire – but apparently now was her time, as she was dressed in an identical uniform to the one Buffy was wearing.

“Amber?” Stiles asked.

Cordelia pointed wordlessly to the girl stretching across the room.

“I heard that the Laker Girls tried to recruit her and she turned them down,” Allison’s voice interjected as she arrived – also wearing a cheerleading uniform.

“You’re trying out too, Allison?” Scott asked.

Allison nodded. “Yeah, I thought I should put my gymnastics skills to good use.”

“I can’t wait to see,” Scott grinned.

At that moment, the senior cheerleader – Joy –started barking orders through the megaphone. “We’re starting with Amber Grove. Everyone else, off the floor.”

Amber stepped onto the floor as a number of other girls moved to the edges of the room. One of those girls approached the small – but growing – gathering.

“Amy!” Willow exclaimed, “Hi!”

“Oh, hi Willow,” the girl replied calmly.

“Haven’t seen you around much this semester,” Willow said, “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you how good you’re looking. Did you lose some weight?”

Amy nodded. “I’ve worked hard at it.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a cheerleader,” Cordelia interjected, “Didn’t think they let in just anybody.”

“Have you met Buffy?” Willow shifted the conversation away from… well, anything Cordelia wanted to talk about.

“Hi,” Amy shook Buffy’s hand, “How much do you hate try outs?”

Buffy smiled. “These seem even more competitive than my last school.”

“No kidding,” Amy nodded, “I heard Amber hired Benson. He’s like, the best coach money can buy.”

“There’s coaches?” Buffy stammered.

“Oh, yeah,” Amy replied, watching Amber’s routine, “I just train with my mom though. Three hours every morning, three hours every night.”

“That much quality time with my mom would probably lead to quality matricide,” Buffy admitted.

Amy crinkled her nose. “I know, it’s so hokey. But my mom’s really great.”

Willow made a soft choking noise. “Say that again, Amy?”

“Amber’s on fire,” Xander said.

Cordelia scoffed, “We get it, she’s good. Cut out the exaggeration.”

“No, she’s actually on fire,” Xander insisted.

The entire group stopped conversing and turned to look – smoke poured off of Amber’s arm. She let out a scream as her sleeve erupted into flames. Several onlookers began shrieking as well.

Scott made a move to leap into action, but Buffy shoved him aside – the crowd was already terrified, if Scott shifted at all it would only make matters worse. As deftly as she could, she leapt up the bleachers and pulled a banner down from the wall, and then she tackled Amber with it – smothering the flames.

* * *

“Spontaneous human combustion,” Stiles theorized, lounging back in his chair with his feet unceremoniously laid out on the table in front of him. The tryouts had been canceled for the day, due to the bizarre incident, and the gang had gathered in the school library to try to figure things out.

Buffy shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m freaked. I’ve been doing the vamp slaying thing for a while and I’ve never seen anything like that. This isn’t a vampire problem, right?”

“No,” Giles agreed, “Decidedly not.”

“But it’s weird, right?” Xander asked.

“Indeed,” Giles seemed to almost bubble with excitement, “If Stiles’ theory proves accurate – and I see no alternate explanations at this juncture – we are looking at a rare, scientifically unexplained phenomena. There have been reports for centuries – often all that’s left is a pile of ash.”

“If Buffy hadn’t leapt into action, that’s all that’d be left of Amber,” Willow pointed out, “Hold on. You don’t want to run tests on her, do you?”

“What I find most curious,” Giles went on, “Is her activity. In most cases I’ve read of, the victim is either thoroughly enraged or asleep. I can’t imagine she was particularly angry, from what you’ve described, and she certainly wasn’t unconscious.”

“So, we have no idea about this?” Scott questioned, “We have another complete mystery? Cause that’s… yeah, I have nothing positive to say about that.”

“That’s what makes life on a Hellmouth so fascinating!” Giles exclaimed, “A never ending cornucopia of fiends and ghouls and…” The librarian caught sight of the stares he was earning from his teenage audience. “Well, pardon me but some of us always find the glass half full.”

“Okay, okay,” Xander theorized, “Maybe Amber has this power to light herself on fire. Like the Human Torch.”

“Only it hurts?” Stiles shook his head.

“So we find out if Amber’s had any heated episodes before,” Buffy suggested.

Willow nodded, spinning her seat to face a computer. “I’ll look at her student record. Anything about fires should be there.”

“You haven’t looked at mine, right?” Buffy said quickly. Willow didn’t answer, but tapped at the keyboard in front of her and let out an innocent whistle.

“We can ask around about her,” Xander offered, “Stiles and Scott and I.”

“And if Amber didn’t cause this?” Scott turned to Giles, “What then?”

Giles shrugged, “We will have to act accordingly based on the information we acquire.”

* * *

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how some drugged-out tweaker had managed to injure his neck so bad but it had kept him up all night. It hurt -- and it had developed a nasty scab. Fortunately, under the collar of his polo, nobody seemed to have noticed it.

Lydia strode into view with Aphrodesia by her side. Finally. Jackson pushed open the door of his Porsche and stood up to wave at her. Lydia noticed immediately and veered directions towards her ride.

“Nice job today,” Lydia called to her friend as the two went their separate ways.

Jackson quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you were getting tutored.”

Lydia nodded. “Uhm, yeah, we’re getting tutored together.”

“Who’s your tutor?”

Lydia shrugged. “Some nerdy Senior.” She planted a quick kiss on his lips before rounding the car for the passenger side – her best way of shutting him up. “How’s your neck?”

“It’s not bad,” Jackson fibbed, “I almost forgot it was there til you said that.”

Lydia shook her head, sliding into her seat. “It’s just weird. You have to see a doctor about it.”

“Alright,” Jackson relented, already tired of the discussion. He climbed back into the car, leaning over to Lydia and kissing her. The kiss quickly deepened, their mouths opening for each others tongues. Lydia’s hand reached up for the back of Jackson’s head and trailed down through his hair.

“Nope,” she announced, suddenly pulling away as her fingertips connected with Jackson’s neck wound, “Nope. You have to see a doctor. And we are putting something on that as soon as we get to your house.”

Jackson sighed, sank back into the driver’s seat, and started the car.

* * *

 

Buffy weaved between wooden crates and eventually found her way to the kitchen table in her home. “Mom?” she called out.

“Hi honey,” her mother’s voice called out, “How was school?”

“A reverent joy as always,” Buffy replied, “What’s with the boxes?”

“My gallery’s first big show!” her mother’s excitement practically echoed, “I have to go through all of this inventory.”

“We had tryouts today,” Buffy announced.

“Oh, that’s great,” her mother rounded a corner made out of stacked crates, toting a crowbar in her hand, “How’d it go?”

“There was an accident,” Buffy admitted, “I’m trying out tomorrow. But the competition is fierce. Much tougher than it was at Hemery.”

“I know you’ll do fine. Keep on plugging. Get back on the horse.” She shoved the end of the crowbar beneath the lid of one of the boxes and tried, with no success, to lift it.

Silence followed. “Mom?”

“Honey?”

“What was I trying out for?”

“Oh, for… for… an activity? Oh, I’m sorry, Buffy. I’ve been so distracted with this whole thing. It’s a huge deal for my gallery.”

“It’s okay, mom,” Buffy sighed, “Your platitudes are always welcome. But it was cheerleading.”

“Oh that’s wonderful! That’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Buffy started, “I’m not in any trouble.”

“Of course not,” her mother stammered, finally prying open the crate she’d been working on. “I just meant… you were cheerleading before the trouble started at Hemery. I want you to get back into the things you were doing before you—oh.”

“I oh what?”

“Nothing!’ her mother grinned innocently, slamming the lid back down, “Just a fertility statue, nothing you need to see. And if you see Dawn, this doesn’t exist. I’m gonna… I’ll be right back.”

Buffy watched her mom disappear from the room before opening the crate and peering in. Her eyes widened as she, too, slammed the lid shut. She was never going to unsee that.

* * *

 

Derek’s hand slammed down onto the bell again.

“Why don’t we just walk in like we did last night?” Scott asked.

Derek rolled his eyes. “We’re not here to see my uncle,” he repeated for at least the tenth time, “We’re here to see who takes care of him.”

“Right. And wouldn’t they be where he is?” Scott questioned, not for the first time.

“Maybe someone would be, yes,” Derek sighed. Exasperation wasn’t even a strong enough word. “But that’s not going to give us the names of everyone who takes care of him.”

Scott was about to raise another question when double doors flew open from the hall. A body bag – clearly with a body in it – was being carted out by a team from Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. One very flustered looking man followed along behind them, though he stopped when he caught sight of the duo at the front desk. He looked rather frail, glasses perched precariously on a nose that seemed like it had been squashed onto his face. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “Have you been waiting long?”

“It’s really okay,” Scott said reassuringly, “Looks like you have your hands full.”

The man nodded, smiling weakly, “They don’t really need me, I’m mostly just freaking out. I’m Rigel, how can I help you?”

“We’re here to visit our uncle, Peter Hale?” Derek said.

Rigel shuddered. “Strangest thing! That guy – he was eighty-five – but they found him in his room. No blood anywhere, they said.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “People don’t usually bleed when they die of old age.”

“No blood anywhere,” Rigel repeated, “Not even in him, they said. It’s only my third night working the desk here, I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“No blood,” Scott echoed, “Anywhere.” He turned to Derek, both eyebrows raised expectantly.

“We’re here to see our uncle,” Derek repeated indifferently, “Peter Hale.”

Rigel nodded, “I’ll need you to sign in.”

* * *

 

“I couldn’t get a look at the body,” Scott finished explaining from his perch on the edge of a library table, “Derek wasn’t any help.”

Xander jumped in. “Why did you think going there with Derek was a good idea again? Looking for a homicidal maniac with someone who could very well be a homicidal maniac?”

“Did you find anything out?” Buffy asked.

Scott shook his head. “Derek took a copy of something from his uncle’s file – I think to get a list of who’s been taking care of him. He didn’t say much.”

“Does he ever?” Stiles quipped.

“Anything about Amber?” Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head, “Nothing. She’s had a very ordinary life for a teenage girl. She once got detention for smoking, but it was the kind of smoking with cigarettes.”

“Ew,” Stiles grimaced. “Is that cool now or something? I didn’t think that was cool.”

“I find the death quite troublesome,” Giles said, bringing attention back to Scott’s news.

“Why? People in a place like that seem like perfect sitting ducks for a vampire,” Stiles countered.

Buffy shook her head. “Vampires usually want to get the blood really pumping – old people’s hearts just aren’t up to it. We should check the body though.”

“I broke into the morgue last time,” Scott said, “Someone else is going to have to do it this time.”

* * *

 

After class had ended, Buffy’s first priority was the continuation of the cheerleader tryouts. Nearly everyone returned from the day before – except, of course, Amber. Joy, the head cheerleader, evidently decided to move right into group performances. Buffy was pleased to be put into a group with Amy and Allison, but was less happy when Cordelia and her fellow Cordette Lishanne joined them.

Joy showed them the routine, and the groups were each given a brief opportunity to practice. Cordelia and Allison were naturals – Buffy was extremely impressed. Lishanne and Amy weren’t bad either, but definitely less sure of themselves. Buffy, on the other hand, was finding she mostly had to focus on stopping herself from accidentally turning a cartwheel into a flying kick or other kind of acrobatic attack. She managed, and when their group was called up to perform she was feeling pretty confident.

More confident than Amy, at least. “I’m so nervous my hands are sweating,” Amy whispered, wiping her palms on her skirt.

“You’ll be fine,” Allison whispered with a smile, “You just did it great, and it’s totally the same thing. Just pretend nobody’s watching.”

“Thanks,” Amy replied, though she didn’t sound overly confident.

And so the routine began, shaking pom-poms and twirls. It started easily enough and each of the girls remained in unison.. “We’re Sunnydale, Sunnydale!” the girls cheered in unison, “We never fail, never fail! Jump and shoot, swish and score! The other team is such a bore!”

And now the grand finale. Allison went first, cartwheeling and then sliding to her knees. Lishanne went next, followed by Buffy. Cordelia was the next. Finally, Amy launched into a cartwheel – but her hand slipped, sending her careening into Cordelia and knocking both of them over.

“That wasn’t me!” Cordelia exclaimed, looking desperately at the girls judging their performance, “You saw that! That was all Amy!”

* * *

 

Though Scott’s focus was entirely on Allison, Xander had managed to get the rest of their group’s focus fixed on Buffy. “She was wearing the bracelet. Did you all see that? That’s pretty much like we’re dating!”

“I don’t have like a lot of experience in this area,” Stiles shook his head, “But I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. Like, usually if you’re dating someone, don’t they also know about it?”

Xander pursed his lips. “So, what? Should I, like, ask her?”

Willow chimed in. “You won’t know unless you ask.”

“Thanks, Will,” Xander said sincerely, “This is why you’re so cool. You’re like our guy friend that knows about girl stuff.”

“Great,” Willow blanched, “I’m gonna go see how Amy’s doing.”

* * *

 

Buffy stood with Amy in front of the trophy case outside the gymnasium. She really didn’t know what to say – falling would have been embarrassing enough without Cordelia throwing her under the bus.

“That’s my mom,” Amy said finally, pointing through the glass at a trophy.

Buffy peered at the trophy and read, “Catherine Madison. Wow.”

“They called her Catherine the Great,” Amy continued, “She made the cheerleading squad tri-county champions. No one’s done that at this school before, or since. She and my dad were Homecoming King and Queen. Got married right after they graduated.”

“That’s sweet,” Buffy smiled.

“He was a loser,” Amy went on, “Took off with Miss Trailer Trash when I was twelve.”

“Oh,” Buffy nodded, “That must really suck. My parents just split up too.”

“He left my mom with nothing,” Amy almost didn’t even seem to be hearing Buffy at this point, “She put herself through cosmetology school, and still got me everything I ever wanted. Without gaining a single pound.”

“She sounds great, Amy,” Buffy said, “But you don’t need to be her. You don’t need to lock step with her in terms of cheerleading if that’s not your thing.”

Amy continued without acknowledging Buffy in the slightest. “I just want to get my body to move like that. I choked so bad today.” She shook her head, finally snapping out of her own pity party. “I need to get changed.” She turned and strode to the girls lockers, brushing coldly past Willow.

“So she’s not okay, huh?” Willow asked, approaching Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. “She’s wigging about her mom, the big cheer queen from way back.”

Willow nodded, “I bet. Her mom is…”

“Nazi-like?”

“Heil,” Willow confirmed, “Her mom padlocks the fridge if she puts on any weight.”

“Mommie Dearest, huh?” Buffy reflected, momentarily, how lucky she had it with her own mother.

Willow sighed. “But Amy’s really nice. We always used to hang out. Her mom would go on these broth kicks, and Amy would come over and we’d make brownies. This semester though, she’s been like… avoiding me? I’ve barely seen her at all except in Bio class.”

“She’s in our Bio class?” Buffy exclaimed. “Did she do the reading yet? I don’t get anything Dr. Gregory is talking about, I swear.”

Willow just sighed. “I’ll give you some of my notes.”

* * *

 

Cordelia could hear someone else in the lockers. Given what had happened just last week, she was a little unnerved that whoever it was hadn’t said anything. “Please don’t be leaving another body here,” she whispered to herself, tossing her hair tie into her locker and cautiously stepping around the corner to catch a look at the potential intruder.

“Amy!” Cordelia exclaimed.

Amy let out a gasp of surprise. “I thought I was alone! I’m so sorry about…”

“Listen,” Cordelia snarled, “I have a dream. It’s me, as head cheerleader, with all the varsity boys panting after me. We need to achieve our dreams, Amy, or we wither and die. If your klutziness out there cost me my dream, you are going to be so beyond sorry. Have a good day.”

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for the list of new cheerleaders to be posted in the Quad. Most of those who had tried out had opted to wait for it. Allison had decided she was going to wait with Scott and Buffy, which ultimately turned into the entire gang staying. Amy ended up joining them as well, which Willow was pleased about.

As soon as Joy walked away from posting the list, a crowd formed. “I can’t look,” Amy announced, staying seated on a bench next to Willow.

“I’m going in!” Xander announced heroically, charging towards the crowd just as Cordelia emerged from the midst.

She marched up to Amy, a smug smirk plastered on her face. “You are so lucky.”

“I made it?” Amy gasped.

“I made it,” Cordelia snapped, “Like I care about you?”

Xander returned shortly after, trying to smile despite having apparently sustained some kind of wound to his jaw.

“Are you okay?” Willow asked.

“One of those girls hit me really hard,” Xander whined, “Do we test for steroids at this school?”

“So?” Buffy asked.

Allison turned from Scott, her attention fixed on Xander.

“You’re all in!” Xander announced, “Not only are you all in, but Buffy, you’re the number one alternate and Amy, you’re the number three alternate. Sorry, Allison, they didn’t make you an alternate. You’re just a generic cheerleader. Buffy, we should go celebrate--”

“Alternates aren’t on the team,” Allison interrupted, glancing cautiously at Amy and Buffy, “They’re on the list to fill in, in case something happens to the ones who did make the team.”

Amy launched herself off the bench and raced away.

“Excuse me,” Buffy said, jumping up and taking off after Amy.

“You made the team though!” Scott grinned at Allison.

Allison nodded. “I feel bad though, Amy looks so heartbroken.”

“Just call me Xander, King of Cretins,” Xander groaned, watching the two girls leaving, “May all lesser Cretins bow before me.”

* * *

 

Derek stared blankly at Scott over the counter of the veterinary clinic. “No.”

Scott sighed and tried again. “You want you uncle to fall victim to whatever this thing is?”

“It’s a vampire,” Derek said flatly, “It won’t drink from a werewolf.”

“Giles says it isn’t,” Scott pushed, “So, we need to find out what it is and how to stop it, right?”

“No.”

“Yes, we do,” Scott insisted.

“Saving the day might be something you and your little teenage pals do,” Derek countered, “But I am not interested unless it involves finding the Alpha and finding out what happened to my sister.”

“Look, if it isn’t a vampire, we don’t know how or why it’s killing, maybe it would like werewolf blood,” Scott argued, “And your uncle is a… A… He’s an easy target. It’s in your best interests too.”

Derek crossed his arms across his chest, clearly unconvinced. “If it’s so important to you, Scott, then you should do it.”

“I’m at work, I can’t just leave!” Scott exclaimed, exasperated, “Look, until I know what’s happening there, I’m not helping you find the Alpha. You can help me figure it out faster.”

“Fine,” Derek snapped, turning on his heel and stalking towards the door.

It opened before he reached it, and Dr. Deaton stepped in. Scott jumped up from leaning on the counter in an effort to look busy, but the veterinarian paid no attention to him.

“You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?” Dr. Deaton asked, his eyes locked on the young man.

Derek simply nodded as he made his exit. He had a body to investigate.

* * *

 

Buffy lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a light rap of knuckles on the door. There wasn’t even time to tell whoever it was to go away before the door opened and her mom slipped inside.

“Dawn said you were feeling pretty down,” she announced, “So I dug out this old yearbook of mine.”

“Oh, good,” Buffy groaned.

Taking the sarcastic response as permission, her mom sat down on the bed and cracked open the book. “Oh, look, there I am!”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “I have accepted that you and dad had sex. But I am not ready to accept that you had Farrah hair.”

“Gidget hair,” her mom corrected, “I swear, they don’t teach anything in history these days.” She grinned at her own joke, then carried on. “I was in the yearbook club. My senior year I was the photography editor, I got to put myself on almost every page. I look a lot more popular than I actually was.”

“I really don’t see--”

“I just want you to know there’s other activities out there than cheerleading,” she went on, “You could do yearbook!”

“Even the chess club nerds pick on the yearbook kids,” Buffy rolled her eyes, “I’m not you. I’m into my own things.”

“Your own things got you expelled from your last school,” her mother retorted, “We had to move her to find a school that would even take you after everything.”

Silence fell on the room. Buffy shook her head and leapt up from the bed, out of the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean--” But Buffy was already running down the stairs for the front door.

* * *

 

Giles leapt to his feet as the doors to the library burst open. “Excuse me, I was just on my way out,” he announced, “You’ll have to come by in the morning. When the school is open.”

“No time,” Derek disagreed, his march into the library not slowing down in the least. “What drinks blood from feet?”

Giles blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Derek finally came to a halt at the table Giles was standing next to. “The body they took out of my uncle’s facility last night has no blood, but the only markings on him are on the bottom of his feet. It looks like the skin was worn away.”

Giles smirked. “A palis.”

“A what?”

“They’re something of a joke amongst the Watcher’s Council,” Giles explained, “Poor excuse for vampires and all that. Incredibly stupid creatures. And, yes, they drain blood from the feet.”

“Stupid is good,” Derek nodded, “Scott will want to know how to stop it.”

“Only Scott?” Giles mused.

Derek simply folded his arms across his chest. “What do we do?”

* * *

 

The robed woman intoned her spell with great care. Some things about witchcraft had changed since her ancestors had created their grimoire -- for instance, their altars now had to be hidden away in dark attic like this one -- but the respect for the powers being commanded, that would never change.

“Lord of Darkness, Lord of Night,” she chanted, passing by a row of dolls sitting on a shelf. “Accept thy supplicant’s sacrifice.” She snatched a brunette doll from the shelf, wrapping a pink hair tie around its head. “Reap thy vengeance with keen and cruel might. Send thy sudden darkness out of darkest night.” As she finished the incantation, she approached a bubbling cauldron places over a burner on her altar, and slowly guided the doll into the liquid, head first. A brown color soaked into the plastic before she disappeared from sight.

* * *

 

Scott’s bike skidded to a halt in front of the burnt out Hale house. Derek was waiting for him on the porch. It only took a few minutes for Derek to bring Scott up to speed on what he had learned - but the plan he had concocted was going to take some work.

“How do you plan on convincing the staff that we need their patients to sleep with their shoes on or their feet touching?” Scott exclaimed.

Derek shrugged. “Just tell them we need them to. And if they argue, threaten them.”

“Threaten them?” Scott sighed, sitting on the porch steps, “That’s probably just going to get you arrested. Again.”

“Don’t you mean us?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, “Because I’m not doing that.”

Derek scowled. “What’s your plan then?”

Scott thought for a moment. “Shouldn’t we be able to smell whoever it is? I mean, they’re not human, can’t we smell that?”

Derek shrugged. “Possibly, but I don’t know what a palis is supposed to smell like. I didn’t even know they existed. Your Watcher friend says most of them are too stupid to live very long, so they’re kind of obscure.”

“Then how did this one get here?” Scott wondered, “And why is it killing now?”

“Do we need its life story?” Derek growled, “Can’t we just kill it and move on?”

Scott shrugged, “Can’t we stop it without killing it?”

“You already said we can’t do the shoe thing,” Derek quipped, “The only other option is to find it and kill it. But without smelling it out.”

“Or we might need some help,” Scott said slowly, as a plan dawned on him.

* * *

 

Stiles, Xander and Willow had been outside for at least fifteen minutes with no sign of Buffy or Scott. Finally, Willow decided they needed to go inside. “They might be at the library,” she reminded them.

“It’s so dark in there,” Stiles complained, “It’s the only room in this whole building that doesn’t have fluorescent lights. It’s practically medieval.”

They’d hardly made it three feet inside the building when Cordelia shoved her way through the trio. “Good morning, your highness,” Xander snapped to her departing back, “She’s moving awful slow and she’s got so many peasants to behead this morning.”

“I don’t think she even saw us,” Willow sighed.

Stiles shrugged. “When does she ever? She barely knows anyone else exists.”

“We all suffer from invisible man syndrome,” Xander nodded, “A blessing in Cordelia’s case. Not so much in Buffy’s.”

“You’re really dying to be her Lois Lane, aren’t ya?” Stiles quipped.

“You are not invisible to Buffy,” Willow shook her head, “You’re like…”

“A piece of furniture?” Xander finished, “A part of the scenery. Always there, but you never really look at it. Like a rug, like a--”

“An old pen,” Stiles cut in, “All chewed up. And you know you should throw it out but you don’t. Not because you like it but you’re just used to it.”

Willow held up a hand to stop him. “Stiles, that’s not helping. That’s the opposite.”

“No, he sort of drove the point home like a railroad spike to the head,” Xander rolled his eyes, “I’m gonna do exactly what you said.”

“Throw out the pen?” Stiles asked.

“Forget about Buffy?” Willow agreed.

“I have to man up and ask her out,” Xander said with determination, “No more bracelets. No more subtlety or innuendo. No more sneaking photos of her through her bedroom window -- that was a joke. Y’know, to break the tension. Because she’s right there.”

“I am so relieved,” Willow breathed a sigh of relief.

Sure enough, Buffy was walking towards them, her brow furrowed. “Is something up with Cordelia?”

Xander clenched his jaw and then bravely started in. “Buffy, would you wanna--”

“She’s trying to open her locker. But I’m pretty sure she’s not at her locker.” Buffy raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, on Friday there’s…”

This time a commotion down the hall interrupted him. “Cordelia, are you alright?” someone called out.

“I’m sorry, Xander, I gotta see what’s going on,” Buffy shook her head and took off towards the crowd that had gathered.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Stiles said, clapping a hand to Xander’s back, “For instance, you could be going bowling with Jackson and Lydia.”

* * *

 

Buffy tailed Cordelia at every opportunity. Something was definitely off about her today -- she was clumsy and seemed more than a little lost. At lunch period, Cordelia wandered out towards the parking lot and Buffy followed.

It didn’t take long to piece together that Cordelia was heading to a driving lesson -- particularly since the rigid Mr. Pole was standing sternly at the center of a small semi-circle of students. His eyes fell upon Cordelia almost instantly. “Nice of you to join us when it’s your turn to drive, Cordelia,” he said.

“I don’t want to drive today,” Cordelia almost whimpered. Buffy had to feel sorry for her.

Mr. Pole, however, was less sympathetic. “And I don’t want to be here at all. We all have our burdens to bear. You’ve failed driver’s ed twice already, if you don’t get in the car now you’ll be taking the bus to college.”

Buffy cringed as Cordelia stumbled off the curb and around the car to the driver’s side door. This was not going to end well.

In fact, it wasn’t even going to start well. The car lurched into reverse -- obviously not what Mr. Pole had instructed her to do -- and slammed into a metal pole. Moments later, the car jerked forward. One tire jumped onto the curb, and then the car careened back onto the tarmac and skidded towards the street. Buffy sprinted forward. The car skidded out into the street and spun -- finally coming to a stop. Mr. Pole and Cordelia both clambered out of the car.

Mr. Pole, furious, began shouting at Cordelia from the sidewalk. Cordelia stood, frozen, in the middle of the street -- a UPS delivery truck bearing down on her.

But Buffy was not about to lose this race. She launched herself at Cordelia, knocking her to the ground -- but safely out of oncoming traffic.

“What’s happening? I can’t see anything!” Cordelia shrieked. She stared sightlessly up at Buffy -- her eyes were misted over with a milky white fog.

“I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna take you to the nurse,” Buffy stammered, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

* * *

 

“It’s a classic, of course,” Giles nodded, “Witchcraft.”

“Of course that’s a thing,” Stiles groaned.

“Blinding one’s enemies to disorient them is almost routine in some covens,” Giles went on.

“Vampires, werewolves, witches,” Xander smirked, “This does explain the affordable housing rates in this town.”

“And palis,” Scott added.

“What’s that?” Buffy asked.

“Something to deal with later,” Giles cut in, “First, we must identify this witch. Who would want to harm Cordelia?”

“So, we just need to make a list of everyone she’s ever met?” Willow said, “Oh, did I say that? Outloud?”

“And Amber?” Giles asked.

Xander nodded. “Yeah, they’re not friends.”

“They’re both cheerleaders,” Buffy pointed out.

“So someone doesn’t like cheerleading,” Scott guessed.

“Or likes it too much,” Buffy realized, her gaze meeting Willow’s.

“Amy,” they said in unison.

“Amy?” Giles wondered.

“Amy Madison,” Willow nodded, “She’s desperate to get on the cheerleading squad, to make her mom proud of her. I hate to think she’d turn to witchcraft but…”

“She’s got the full powers of the black mass at her disposal and she’s using to get on the cheerleading squad,” Giles said blankly.

“What’s your point?” Buffy replied with a shrug.

“Priorities!” Giles exclaimed, “Witches should be setting their sights higher than the pep squad.”

“You’ve had parents, right?” Xander countered.

Buffy agreed, “The pressure they can put on a kid. It’s enough to make anybody wig.”

“So we have to stop her,” Stiles said firmly, “Before she--”

Giles shook his head. “The first order of business is to confirm our suspicions without raising the witch’s. She is capable of some powerful spellcraft.”

“Okay,” Scott thought aloud, “You’re a teenage girl. You wanna make the team, make your mom happy. So where do you go for your magic?”

“The Internet,” Willow answered, “...or books. A spellbook is classic, right? Do you remember anyone checking out books on witchcraft, Giles?”

Giles wiped his glasses on his sleeve nervously. “I… I honestly don’t pay much attention to the books students check out.”

“I can find it in the computer system,” Willow leapt up from her seat and headed to the nearest computer.

“She wouldn’t leave a paper trail!” Xander protested, “Besides, we don’t have time. Buffy’s life is in danger, she’s on the squad now Cordelia can’t cheer! We need to hide you, get you to a safe house!”

Willow had been ignoring Xander, navigating her way through the computer system, until… “Xander!”

Xander froze. “Yes?”

“Witches: Historic Roots to Modern Practice, checked out by Alexander Harris,” Willow read from the screen.

Stiles peered over her shoulder. “The Pagan Rites, checked out by Alexander Harris.”

“Okay!” Xander exclaimed, “But it isn’t what you think!”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “You like to look at the engravings of naked women?”

“I guess it is what you think,” Xander looked sheepishly at the floor.

“That’s it,” Willow shrugged, “Just Xander. So much for that theory.”

“There are ways to test,” Giles said, flipping open one of his books, “The ducking stool. We throw her in a pond, if she floats--oh, I suppose that’s outdated.”

“No kidding,” Scott scoffed.

“This is more likely to work. We’ll need some of her hair, a bit of quicksilver, aqua fortis…”

“What and what?” Buffy asked.

“No worries,” Willow said reassuringly, “I know what they are and we can get them in one of the science labs. Mercury and nitric acid.”

“Also, eye of toad. ‘Heat ingredients and apply to witch,’” Giles read, “‘If a spell has been cast within forty-eight hours, the witch’s skin will turn blue.’”

Willow squinted at Giles suspiciously. “Eye of toad? Not newt? Are you sure?”

* * *

 

Scott caught up to Buffy just a few minutes after they left the library. “Allison’s in danger,” he pointed out, “She could be next.”

Buffy nodded grimly. “I know. I don’t know how we can protect her. Especially without cluing her in to everything. Assuming she doesn’t already know.”

“If we have to tell her everything to keep her safe, I will,” Scott said.

“You can’t,” Buffy argued.

“I have to,” Scott countered.

“No,” Buffy shook her head, “You can’t. You’re a werewolf, Scott. Her family hunts werewolves. The only way that plays out ends with you dead.”

Scott let out a low growl. Buffy stepped back. “I’m not shifting, I’m just frustrated,” he snapped, “If I’m stuck like this, I want to be able to do some good. I can’t help anyone. I can’t even save old people from a monster that Giles is literally laughing at.”

Buffy held back a chuckle. “Scott, this isn’t some overnight thing. You were bitten, what, three, four weeks ago? I became the Slayer a little less than a year ago and half the time I don’t know what I’m doing. I just make it up as I go. At least you really want to help people. That took me a while.”

Scott smiled weakly. “So what do I do?”

“I’ll figure something out for Allison, focus on your old people thing,” Buffy smiled at him.

Scott nodded, though he did not look even slightly reassured.

* * *

 

Sunnydale’s science labs were shared between all of the science classrooms -- which was fortunate in situations like these. Even though they were in the lab for biology class, Willow had easy access to the chemicals they needed, and Dr. Gregory -- positioned at the head of the class under a mirror which allowed him to demonstrate things to even the back rows of the classroom -- would never notice they were doing anything other than the lesson. “This is too easy,” she muttered to Xander.

“Speak for yourself,” Xander retorted, scalpel poised over the frog they were dissecting, “I can’t do this.”

“Really?” Willow snatched the scalpel and made the cuts. “Eye of toad. Well, frog. I hope that doesn’t make a huge difference.”

Xander’s mouth was agape. “You just… went in for it. You’ve got a vicious streak in you. Remind me never to cross you.”

“Oh, I will,” Willow said with a grin, “I really don’t want to have to carve you into little tiny pieces.”

Xander blanched. “I wonder how Buffy’s coming on the hair.”

Their eyes turned to Buffy. The good news was that she had escaped from Blayne Moll -- a complete bonehead who had been made her lab partner by Dr. Gregory when she transferred in the week before. She was passing Allison and Lishanne on her way towards Amy.

“Isn’t this kind of exciting?” Allison asked Lishanne.

“Isn’t this kind of gross?” Lishanne returned.

Buffy smirked. If only they knew what she was doing. Her eyes scanned Amy’s workstation -- there had to be some way to get hair from her other than yanking it out of her head. She spotted Amy’s purse -- one pocket of which wasn’t fully closed. A hairbrush had been tossed in it hurriedly. Using hair Amy had yanked out of her own head was the perfect solution.

“Hey, Amy,” Buffy asked with an innocent smile, “Blayne is like no help at all. Which is the hydrochloric acid?”

Amy raised an eyebrow. “It’s the one with the label that says ‘Hydrochloric Acid’ in real big letters.”

“Y’know, I told him to try actually reading the bottles,” Buffy nodded, letting her pen slip from her fingers. “Oops!” Buffy shrugged and dropped to the ground to retrieve her pen -- and some strands of hair. Hastily, she headed back to her seat next to Blayne -- passing the hair off to Willow as she went.

It didn’t take long for the mixture to heat up. Willow lifted up the beaker to bring it to Amy, but Buffy intercepted her.

“Let me, she’s dangerous,” Buffy insisted.

Willow opened her mouth to argue, but it was already clear she would never win that argument. “Here,” she sighed, passing the solution to Buffy.

Buffy glanced towards Amy -- their suspect was on the move. Buffy stiffened, alarmed, but Amy seemed to just be double-checking her work with Allison and Lishanne, and then she returned to her seat.

Buffy casually strolled past Amy, then purposefully tripped. The beaker bounced from hand to hand before its contents splashed onto Amy’s arm. The skin under the liquid changed to a blue tone -- Amy was definitely a witch.

Buffy’s eyes shot up to Amy’s face -- but Amy was focused elsewhere, her lips moving in a silent incantation.

And then Allison screamed.

Dr. Gregory spun on his heel from the blackboard to see what was happening. “Lishanne! Oh my God!”

Buffy stepped backwards to get a clearer view -- Lishanne’s mouth had utterly disappeared. Buffy shot a look back at Amy, who seemed as terrified as the rest of the class.

* * *

 

Dr. Gregory cleared out the classroom immediately. For all of his academic experience, he’d never heard of anyone’s mouth simply vanishing from their face. As the students gathered in the hallway, Allison wandered next to Scott’s friends. She was at least as shaken up as anyone else.

“Did you see what happened?” Willow asked her.

Allison shook her head. “We were talking to Amy about our frog -- and then I said something about Cordelia going blind earlier, and Lishanne said something kind of muffled and I looked up and… she was just… like that.”

“Crazy weird,” Buffy said blandly, “Did you know your backpack’s open?”

Allison lifted the pack from her side and shrugged. “I was in such a rush to get out of there I guess didn’t notice. You think Lishanne’s going to be alright? You think she’s contagious?”

“No, you’ll be fine,” Xander replied.

Allison didn’t hear him. She was pulling a small leather pouch out of her backpack. It was tied shut with twine. “What is this?” she asked, holding it up for them, “It’s not mine.”

“Looks like trash,” Buffy said, thinking quickly, “Let me throw that out for you.”

Allison handed the strange item off to Buffy, her attention returning to the room they had just left. “It’s got to be some kind of weird skin condition, right?”

“Right,” Xander agreed hesitantly, as Buffy disappeared down the hall.

* * *

 

“It’s a hex bag,” Giles explained.

Buffy stared at it. “A what?”

“Spells need to be targeted or focused,” Giles elaborated, “There’s a number of ways to accomplish that task, depending upon the type of magic being used. In witchcraft, one of those methods is with a small bag of spell ingredients. A hex bag.”

“So, Lishanne and Cordelia must have hex bags on them as well,” Buffy reasoned.

Giles nodded. “Potentially. Although there are other means as well. If Amy was able to get a personal item belonging to either of them.”

“I’m not convinced Amy knows exactly what she’s doing,” Buffy said, “She seemed freaked out too. Maybe she’s just a good actress. She’s definitely our Sabrina, though, the test was positive.”

“I think it may be time to speak to her, then,” Giles suggested, “But remember, she is human no matter what otherworldly powers she wields.”

“I think it might be time to talk to her mother,” Buffy replied, “See if she knows what’s she created here.”

Giles smiled sheepishly. “Alas, Scott has recruited my help for something of a project tonight.”

“His nursing home monster?” Buffy asked, “How dangerous is this?”

Giles shook his head. “I assure you I have it under control. You should remain focused on vampires.”

“And the Alpha werewolf and Amy the teenage witch,” Buffy added, “Yeah, not sure you’re clear on the meaning of the word ‘focus’.”

* * *

 

Amy threw the front door of her home open. There sat Catherine the Great on the couch, although she quickly grabbed the remote and turned off the television as soon as Amy made her presence known, the telltale empty bag of popcorn was proof enough of what she’d spent her day doing.

“I see you’ve had a productive day,” Amy snapped, “We have a history report due tomorrow. Do it.” She flung her backpack at the couch. “I’ve got to go make sure I’m on that team. Buffy’s interrupting my spells and taking my hair. Didn’t expect her to be such a problem.” Amy stopped at the foot of the stairs up and dug into her pocket, pulling a silver bracelet from it. She examined it with a smirk, the words “Yours Always” flashing on its surface in the light. “It’s okay. She won’t be a problem much longer.”

* * *

 

Scott arrived at the nursing facility with Stiles, Derek, and Giles in tow. He was less than thrilled to find that Rigel was not alone at the front desk -- the red-headed nurse that had found them in Peter’s room earlier that week was scolding him about something.

“I’m terribly sorry, Jennifer -- er, I mean, ma’am,” Rigel stammered.

“Pardon me,” Giles interrupted, “Mightn’t you be the Jennifer with whom I spoke on the phone? I’m Mr. Giles.”

“Ah, Mr. Giles,” the nurse turned with a curt nod, “Despite my protestations, my superiors have approved our participation in your students’ bizarre experiment. We’ve asked the residents and found a shocking number of willing participants.”

Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“I am alarmed to see you here,” Jennifer rounded on him.

“It’s his experiment,” Derek jumped in, “He came up with it while we were visiting our uncle--”

“After visiting hours.”

“Yes,” Derek finished with an apologetic nod. “After visiting hours.”

Begrudgingly, Jennifer and several other nurses helped to move the beds of the willing residents into their lounges, lined up so that each resident would lie with their feet against another person’s as they slept.

“Remind me what the point of this is?” Jennifer said bitterly, as the patients and residents settled in for the night.

Giles had rehearsed for this very question. “Yes, of course. The idea is to see the effects of physical contact. And, of course, to examine if the kind of physical contact is relevant. So we are beginning with simple foot-to-foot contact.”

Jennifer scowled. “I have to see to my rounds.”

She stomped out of the lounge and down the hall.

“Now what?” Stiles asked, “I don’t like being the only one who doesn’t know the plan.”

“We wait,” Scott said with a shrug.

Stiles slapped his forehead. “How long?”

The wait turned out not to take too long. After only an hour the doors from the foyer hurled open. A figure loped in, and although he was slumped forward and dragging his knuckles on the ground, markings like glowing orange tattoos illuminated his features very clearly. Rigel. His tongue had elongated and dangled down his chin, swaying in front of him. Small spikes, almost like velcro, covered its surface.

“Okay, that’s gross,” Stiles observed.

Scott leapt into action, slamming the doors shut behind the creature.

Giles closed the doors on the other end of the lounge, though he didn’t take his eyes off of the palis for a moment. “This is actually quite fascinating, I’ve never had a moment to--”

Rigel cut off Giles’ monologue with an awful roar, as he approached his sleeping victims. His nose, small and squished as it was, worked overtime sniffing the air.

“This isn’t going to work is it?” Stiles asked.

Despite the vocalized reservations, things seemed to quickly turn in their favor. Rigel’s tongue dangled near the touching feet of the sleeping residents but couldn’t seem to find a place to feed from. Agitated, he kept moving from bed to bed. Those standing awake merely watched, almost amused.

Until one of the residents stirred and one of his feet dropped off the edge of his bed. Rigel seemed to detect this almost immediately, moving rapidly towards this potential victim.

“Stop him!” Giles called out.

Derek moved more rapidly than the palis, blocking the monster’s path and swinging his fist in one swift motion. Rigel received the punch to the skull and tumbled sideways. This only enraged him -- he lashed out with his spined tongue. Derek dodged, his eyes glowing blue as he began to shift. “How do I actually kill it, Giles?”

Giles stammered, “They say if it ingests salt…”

“Salt?” Derek growled, rolling out of the way of the palis’ tongue, “Couldn’t have mentioned that earlier…”

Scott rushed to the cupboards that lined the walls. There had to be salt somewhere…. the first cabinet he opened, however, contained only coffee mugs. He slammed it shut and moved on.

As Scott searched, the door Giles held shut became victim of an assault of its own. “What is going on in there?” Jennifer’s voice screeched.

“One moment!” Giles hollered back, as though that had any chance of calming her.

“Got it!” Scott grabbed a cannister of salt out of the third cabinet he’d opened. He spun around - Derek and Rigel were duking it out on the other side of the room. They’d managed to corner Stiles, who looked like he was about to throw up. “Stiles, catch!” Scott summoned all his strength -- he could feel the wolf beginning to emerge as he did -- and hurled the cannister. Remarkably, Stiles caught it and flipped the lid open. The tongue lashed for Derek again. Stiles took the opportunity, swinging his arm wide and tossing salt out at the monster’s open maw.

Rigel stumbled back as though he’d been hit again. He coughed, and collapsed to the ground.

“Very gross,” Derek nodded to Stiles.

Giles stepped away from the door to examine their foe -- who did seem to still be breathing -- and Jennifer immediately forced it open. “What is  in here?” she snarled.

All eyes fell on Rigel.

“This man tried to attack one of your residents,” Giles quickly explained, “Derek here managed to knock him out.”

“And why does this one have an entire thing of salt in his hands?” Jennifer pointed at Stiles.

Stiles looked gave his best puppy dog face, but her harsh glare still focused on him. “I, uh, I like to snack.”

“I’m calling the police,” Jennifer informed them all.

* * *

 

Buffy bounced into the kitchen for breakfast with more energy than she had ever managed in her life, happily singing, “Like I’m the only girl in the world, the only girl that you’ll ever love.”

Dawn stared at her. “What’s with the happy?”

“I can be in a good mood in the morning, can’t I?” Buffy beamed, “I’m a cheerleader. I can cheer. Which is great because I really want to cheer.”

The girls’ mom seemed equally confused by Buffy’s sudden transformation into a morning person. She hesitantly spoke up. “Buffy, I’m glad you’re so upbeat this morning. I wanted to say, about yesterday, I’m very--”

“No need, momma, that’s totally of yesterday,” Buffy shrugged, “Besides I really did get expelled from my last school. That happened.”

“I want you know, really, I’m pr--”

“Mother, mother, mother!” Buffy gave her an enormous hug, “You’ll never understand and that’s okay. Some things about being a vampire slayer are just lost on the older generation, right Dawn?”

Dawn nearly choked on her cereal.

Their mother blanched. “What?”

“Oh, kidding, joke! Funny!” Buffy grinned again.

“Are you feeling okay, Buffy?” her mom asked, putting a hand on her forehead, “Do you need to stay home?”

“I’m just in a good mood, and I can’t stay home! I’m a cheerleader!”

* * *

 

The school day passed generally uneventfully -- everyone was in a good mood. Buffy was exuberant about virtually everything, and Scott and Stiles couldn’t help but regale everyone in their group with the story of defeating the palis. The monster had lived, much to Stiles’ chagrin, but Giles theorized that he hadn’t swallowed enough salt. Nevertheless, he had ended up in jail, and confessed to murdering elderly people in several nursing homes across the country. Because of this, the victorious heroes were fortunate enough to have escaped any jail time themselves. Xander had expressed disbelief that none of the residents of the nursing home had woken up, but Giles shrugged it off with a knowing smile.

Finally, classes ended. Buffy rushed off to cheerleading practice. It had only been going on a few minutes when Willow led the rest of the gang into the gymnasium to watch.

It wasn’t going well.

“Turn the music up!” Buffy shouted, setting off the start of a cheer. The team began their moves utterly in sync, but somehow Buffy lost the rythm and managed to slam her foot down on another cheerleader’s.

“Get it together, Buffy!” Joy shouted, “We need this ready for the lacrosse game tonight. Let’s go.”

“Are you okay, Buffy?” Allison asked worriedly.

“My friends are here!” Buffy exclaimed, waving frantically at them.

“What is going on with her?” Scott wondered.

“She’s not even wearing her bracelet,” Xander pouted.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Move on. And Scott’s right, she’s completely crazed.”

Their observations proved truer the longer they watched Buffy practice.

Eventually, Willow chimed in. “We need to get her out of there before she--”

Buffy grabbed Joy’s ankles as the senior cheerleader prepared to cartwheel, and tossed her much too hard. Joy hurtled into the wall.

“Hurts someone?” Xander finished.

When Joy rose to her feet, she wasn’t hurt. But she was livid. “Amy, congratulations. You’re a cheerleader. Buffy, get the hell out of my sight.”

“I’m so sorry!” Buffy squealed.

“It’s not her fault!” Xander jumped in as the group rushed forward to usher Buffy from the room.

“She’s on medication,” Stiles attempted an explanation.

“Obviously not enough,” Joy snapped, “Amy!”

“You don’t want her,” Buffy shouted, “She’s a wi--”

“Willing and enthusiastic participant in everything she does,” Stiles finished, covering Buffy’s mouth with his hand.

Between the four of them, they managed to drag Buffy out of the gymnasium and in the direction of the library.

“Did I get kicked off the team?” Buffy said.

Xander was quick to comfort her. “I don’t think it was your fault at all.”

“Of course you don’t,” Buffy replied, “Because you’re my friend. My Xander-shaped friend. You know why I love you, Xander?”

“Let’s just hurry up and get you to Giles,” Willow suggested.

“Let the woman speak!” Xander shushed.

Buffy smiled. “You’re not like other guys. You’re not even like Stiles or Scott. You’re so completely one of the girls. I’m that comfortable with you. Like you even gave me a bracelet and it wasn’t even a thing. Any other guy would want to date me...” Her footing stumbled, and the entire group stumbled with her. “I feel a little woozy. Something is really… not good…”

And then Buffy collapsed, unconscious, into their arms.

* * *

 

“So, are we not calling a hospital right now because she’s the Slayer?” Scott pondered.

Giles shook his head. “What would the hospital do against a bloodstone vengeance spell? This explains her mood all day -- the spell creates a feeling of euphoria, like a drug, and eradicates the body’s immune system.”

“I bet my mom could do something,” Scott muttered.

“Vengeance like she’s getting even?” Willow asked.

“Of course,” Stiles answered, “Amy knows that Buffy knows she’s a witch. She was just trying to get the others off the squad. She needs to do more than that to Buffy.”

Giles agreed. “Buffy she’s got to remove from the planet. She intends to kill her.”

“How much time do I have?” Buffy asked weakly from her position, lying across the table in the middle of the library, “Truth, please.”

Giles shrugged. “I would estimate about three hours at the most, taking your Slayer constitution into account.”

“Can we reverse the spell?” Scott asked.

Giles lifted a book from next to Buffy’s head. “I’ve read up on that today,” he replied, “If I can get my hands on Amy’s book of spells, I should be able to undo all of her magic. Assuming, of course, she used only one book.”

“If she didn’t?” Willow queried.

Giles bit his bottom lip. “We can try cutting off her head.”

Stiles raised his hand. “I, for one, think Plan B has a certain appeal.”

“It’s not her fault,” Buffy coughed, “She’s trying to survive her mother.”

“I don’t care,” Xander said, agreeing with Stiles, “Priority number one is to make sure you keep breathing.”

“So where is she casting these spells from?” Scott asked.

“If I’ve identified all her spells correctly, she’s working from a sacred place, an altar, a cauldron, a pentagram,” Giles answered.

Scott nodded, processing the information. “Could she set up something like that in her home?”

“I don’t see why not,” Giles replied.

“Let’s go,” Scott said, determined.

“I can go,” Buffy groaned, trying to sit.

Willow quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“We’ll need someone to stay with Buffy,” Giles instructed, “And we need to make sure Amy stays at cheerleading practice and away from the science labs. We’ll need to undo her spells there.”

“I’m coming too,” Buffy insisted. Despite her illness, her tone made it very clear she was not going to let anyone argue with her.

* * *

 

While Scott helped Buffy out of the car, Giles went ahead and knocked on the front door of Catherine Madison’s house. Pounded, actually.

The door opened just a crack. A brown eye appeared in the opening. “Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Madison, I must speak with you about your daughter immediately,” Giles announced.

“I’m not allowed--” Mrs. Madison stammered, “Y-you’ll have to come back later.”

Giles wasn’t having any of this -- he gave the door a firm shove, knocking Mrs. Madison back -- and barged into the house. Scott, with Buffy leaning on him for support, followed closely behind.

“Your daughter is involved in something very dangerous,” Giles said, his voice quavering with held in rage.

Mrs. Madison shook her head. She was clearly terrified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You must know,” Giles insisted.

“You have to go,” Mrs. Madison responded, “Please. She’ll be home soon.”

“This girl is very sick because of what your daughter has done,” Giles railed while Scott helped Buffy over to the couch in the room, “Shut up and listen to me. Your daughter has accessed very powerful, very dark magic because of your obsession with cheerleading--”

Mrs. Madison burst into tears. “I don’t care about cheerleading! This isn’t my fault.”

“Do you smell chocolate?” Scott asked, sniffing at the air.

“You are her mother and you have some responsibility for her actions,” Giles went on.

“She’s out of her mind, I can’t control her,” Mrs. Madison sobbed.

“Amy?” Buffy asked, “You’re Amy, right?”

Giles stared at Buffy and crinkled his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve got brownies hidden under the coffee table,” Buffy said, pointing, “She switched bodies with you. Is that right?”

“Good lord,” Giles breathed.

Mrs. Madison -- or rather, Amy -- nodded and sank to a sitting position on the floor. “She said I was wasting my youth. So she took it.”

“When did this all happen?” Scott asked, “How?”

“She did it a few months ago,” Amy managed between sobs she was trying to hold back. Giles helped her to her feet and over to an armchair next to the couch. “I didn’t know about her for years. Dad used to call her a witch but I thought he was just trying not to swear in front of me. But she’d disappear upstairs, sometimes for days. Dad tried to take me with him when he left, but she stopped him. And then, last year, I started setting things on fire. She wanted to teach me to use these… powers, she called them. But they felt more like a curse. Once I could control it, I told her I didn’t want to learn any more about being a witch. And she flipped.”

“Flipped how?” Scott asked.

“She said I didn’t know how easy I had it. How hard it was for her. Guess I do now.”

“We’re gonna fix this, Amy,” Buffy coughed.

“She yelled at me, saying I was a waste -- I didn’t want to be a witch, I didn’t want to be a cheerleader, I just wanted to be nothing. She said she could make me nothing,” Amy wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And then over winter break, I woke up one day and I didn’t know where I was. How I got there. I looked in the mirror…”

“Where upstairs did she lock herself?” Giles asked.

“She has a room in the attic.”

“Show me,” Giles instructed, “Scott, come with us.”

* * *

 

The attic was dark -- the only light from a small circular window at one end of it. It was stiil enough, however, to make out the altar that took up most of the opposite end of the room. The walls were lined with shelves, most of which had dolls, bottles full of herbs or foul-looking liquids. Two dolls lashed together with some kind of thorned vine, in particular, caught Giles’ eye. That must have been the spell she’d used to switch bodies with her daughter.

“If she finds out about this, she’ll kill me,” Amy whispered.

Giles nodded. “I believe I can undo all of her spells. We’re going to need to collect her spellbook -- or books -- and these dolls. Any other components of her active spells. The personal items.”

“You called it a bloodstone vengeance spell, right?” Scott asked, holding up a red stone that had a silver bracelet tied to it. “So that’s this one, right?”

Giles nodded -- but as he did he spotted something else. “What’s in that trunk behind you?”

Scott spun around. He hadn’t even noticed it, it was shoved so far into the corner of the attic. “Good question,” he asked, kneeling beside it and throwing open the lid. “Just one book!” he exclaimed.

“That’s it, take it. Then you, Amy and I are going to take everything else,” Giles said, giving Amy a very significant and very commanding look.

* * *

 

“So what is the plan?” Scott asked as he lay Buffy down on one of the tables in the science lab.

“I’m going to perform a casting that ought to negate every active spell that book has cast,” Giles explained, “I’ll need sulfur, diacetate of some sort…”

To his amazement, the chemical cabinet unlocked and opened before he ever reached it. Amy shrugged. “The one benefit of this is that I can use my mom’s power,” she said meekly, “I figured it could help.”

“Your mother is telekinetic?” Giles surmised.

Amy nodded. “Well, not right now. Right now she’s pyrokinetic.”

“I feel like that’s worse,” Scott confessed.

“Indeed,” Giles nodded, “Now someone find a frog.”

Scott’s eyes darted to the clock. “We need to hurry too. There’s a lacrosse game tonight.”

* * *

 

Joy had kept the cheerleading squad well past the time they should have stayed, and had spent so much time verbally attacking the cheerleaders, Xander couldn’t help but wonder how it was she had escaped being cursed by the end of the practice.

“Amy’s not heading into the lockers,” he pointed out.

Amy had grabbed her bag and for the hall outside the gym, instead of going into the girls’ locker room.

“We have to stop her,” Stiles said, jumping up. Willow and Xander were quick to follow his lead.

“Amy, what’s up?” Willow shouted at her, “Want to go grab something to eat?”

Amy turned to coldly address the group. “No. I actually need to change.” She kept walking.

“The lockers are over that way…” Stiles pointed at the door the rest of the squad was disappearing through.

Amy stared daggers at them. “Right,” she said finally, changing her direction.

“Do you really think it was safe to send her in there with the other cheerleaders?” Xander whispered, “Shouldn’t one of us go in and make sure it’s okay?”

“She’s already on the squad,” Stiles shrugged.

“Besides, I would be the one to go in, Xander,” Willow reminded him, “Not you.”

“Right, nevermind,” Xander frowned.

* * *

 

The concoction Giles had prepared took hardly any time to begin boiling. That meant it was time to begin the incantation. He dropped the frog’s eyes into the mixture and began, reading the spell from one of his own books. “The center is dark,” he intoned, “Centrum est obscurus. The darkness breathes. Tenebrae respiratis. The listener hears.” He sprinkled a handful of powder into the solution. “Hear me!”

A flash of light.

“It’s working,” Amy said, “She’s in the gymnasium.”

Giles continued. “Unlock the gate, let the darkness shine. Cover us with holy fear. Show me. Show me!”

“She’s coming,” Amy whimpered.

Scott nodded to her and headed out the door. “Lock this behind me,” he instructed her.

* * *

 

WIllow was ready when the gymnasium doors flew open and Amy stormed out of them, furious. “Amy! Stop! I can help you!”

“Help me?” Amy spat, “How can you help me?”

“I’ve been doing some witchy things of my own, I have the best, uhm, cauldron,” Willow stammered, “And my broom goes really fast!”

Amy sneered, “Harry Potter must be proud. You need to get out of my way.”

The distraction was enough for Stiles and Xander to make their way behind her. They were both prepared to tackle her, but she was ready. Without even bothering to look, she tossed a hand out behind her. Flames arced through the air, both boys leapt to the side. Xander’s head slammed into the wall, and he slid limply to the ground.

“Amy--” Willow began again, but this time Amy simply slapped her to the ground.

“I don’t have time for you,” she snapped.

“Make some time, Catherine,” Scott growled. Willow turned -- she never thought she’d be so happy to see Scott’s face all wolfed out. She had no idea what he was talking about, but that hardly mattered if he saved the day.

“Got it all figured out? I’m making better use of this body than my daughter ever did,” the witch said smugly, “Eiice lupus.”

Scott howled in pain and collapsed the ground. His glowing yellow eyes flickered and returned to their ordinary hazel. His skin smoothed and his fangs vanished, but even as his human appearance returned he still seemed to be in pain.

“Scott!” Willow clambered to his side, “Scott, what’s happening?”

Amy -- or, well, Catherine -- raced down the hall with no one left to stop her.

* * *

 

“Corsheth and Gilail, the gate is closed. Receive the dark, release the unworthy! Take of mine energy and be sated!”

The door, which Amy had locked, began to rattle as someone tried to pull it open.

Giles cast a look over at Buffy -- her eyes were closed but she was still breathing. Shallow breaths, but at least she was still alive. He plunged his hands into the bubbling solution -- feeding his own life energy into the spell. “Be sated! Release the unworthy! Release!”

The door crashed open.

“Release!” Giles called out again, “Release!”

A blinding light filled the room. When it had cleared, Buffy’s eyes had opened, and both Amy and Catherine’s bodies looked a bit bewildered. The spell had worked.

Giles moved towards the older women, but with a look she sent him flying into the wall. He let out a soft moan before sliding to the ground, unconscious.

“You little brat,” Catherine snapped.

Amy swallowed. “Mom, please…”

“I gave you life,” Catherine went on, “I gave up my life and all do is drag that sorry carcass around. You’ve only ever brought me trouble and heartache. I am going to send you somewhere you can’t be trouble ever again.”

“You know what?” Buffy said, bouncing up off the table, “I feel better.”

Catherine turned to look but her face was met with Buffy’s fist. Catherine hurtled backwards, crashing over one of the lab tables. She rose back to her feet without too much difficult, her eyes filled with rage. “That body was mine!”

“Grow up already,” Buffy quipped.

Catherine’s eyes changed to deep black color that seemed, somehow, to glow with energy. “I shall look upon my enemy, I shall look upon her and the dark place shall have her soul! Corsheth, take her!” Purple energy crackled around her hands and then soared through the air towards Buffy. Buffy dodged, leaping over Dr. Gregory’s table at the head of the class and grabbing a hold of the pole which held up the overhead mirror. The spell struck the glass and bounced back, enveloping Catherine. The witch screamed and then, in a flash, was gone.

Buffy got back to her feet and gave Amy a comforting smile, before stepping over to Giles and attempting to rouse him.

As he came to, Giles adjusted his glasses. “Have we been successful then?”

Just then Xander and Scott scrambled through the doorway. Xander tackled Amy to the ground. “I got her!” he shouted.

“Xander, no!” Buffy shouted, “That’s not her!”

“What?” Xander wondered, still not letting Amy up, “But her skin…”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Scott sighed, “Her mom switched their bodies. But they’ve switched her back.”

“How did you know that?” Giles wondered.

“She had put a spell on me in the hallway,” Scott admitted, “Made it easy to tell when you guys finished your thing.”

Xander stood up and helped Amy to her feet. “Sorry.”

“Easy mistake to make,” Amy shrugged.

“Is everyone okay?” Buffy asked.

Amy nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Where is she?” Willow exclaimed, bursting through the doorway with Stiles just behind her. “Which one is she?”

“It’s fine, Willow, I took care of it,” Xander smiled.

Buffy met Willow’s gaze and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, quite,” Giles said, with a little eye roll of his own. “All of her spells should be undone. I may have gotten the casting wrong…”

“Brag a little, Giles,” Buffy smirked, “You’re in America. It’s okay. Plus, you saved the day, and my life. You’re a god.”

“Well, I’m not unsatisfied with the results,” Giles admitted a bit proudly, “That was my first casting in…” He paused. “Incantations such as that can be quite tricky, and the ingredients were rather interpretative.”

“So, where is she?” Stiles asked.

“What?” Xander looked confused.

“If you guys switched her back, where is she?” Stiles repeated.

Buffy shrugged. “A spell she cast at me backfired and she vanished.”

“So we’re hoping we’ve seen the last of her?” Stiles pressed on.

Amy nodded. “I know I am. I’ve gotta call my dad and tell him I’m moving in with him.”

“Let’s make some brownies tonight,” Willow suggested, following Amy out of the room.

Stiles smiled brightly. “Y’know what I was just thinking, Scott?”

“What’s that?” Scott asked.

“You and Buffy have the superpowers, right?” he said, “But your powers didn’t help at all. Not with the witch, not with the palis.”

“He’s kinda right, Scott,” Buffy agreed, “I think you’ve been worrying for nothing.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I’m still recovering from the agonizing spell…”

“You’ve been so worried about mastering your werewolf so you can help people,” Buffy explained, “But you can help people without that. Maybe you’d be mastering it even better if you didn’t worry about it so much.”

“I guess that too,” Stiles grinned, “But I was just gonna say that it’s nice to see you guys be the sidekicks for once.”

“Don’t you guys have a lacrosse game to get to?” Xander pointed out.

* * *

 

Buffy had opted not to stay and watch the game, though the rest of the gang had turned out. Not only to support Scott, but out of genuine curiosity regarding how the cheerleading squad would manage. Buffy thought the idea of a nice warm bath and night spent in her pajamas sounded like a better alternative than anything involving pompoms.

Buffy didn’t get too far into the plan when her mother knocked on her door.

“Come in,” Buffy said.

The door opened, but her mother didn’t immediately enter the room. “I don’t get it,” she said.

Buffy turned, her forehead crinkled. “I might need a little more to go on here.”

“We haven’t connected much lately,” her mom said with a sigh, “I mean, I have tried figuring out where you’re coming from. And I’ve come to a conclusion: I don’t get it. I don’t know what you want, I don’t know what you’re thinking. No clue at all.”

“I’m inscrutable?”

“I guess so. I think it’s because you’re sixteen. I think I can’t understand you because I’m not sixteen.”

“Would you ever want to be sixteen again?” Buffy asked.

Her mom shuddered. “That’s a really scary idea. I wouldn’t want to do that again, not even if it meant I could understand you better.”

Buffy smiled. “I love you, mom.” She leaned in and kissed her mother on the cheek, before bouncing off to the bathroom.

Her mom sighed again, “I don’t get it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Scott's monster, the palis, is little weird and gross and you're probably all thinking "how did you come up with that and why?" and I just want to assure you... I found it on Google, and it's super obscure and bizarre and that's why I liked it and used it. :P


	8. The Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy deals with a "buy one, get one" bargain on monsters, Scott skips school, Stiles finds a clue, and Derek gets a bit more tortured.

Jackson glowered in unspoken fury. His eye twitched. This was… unfair, unjust, completely uncalled for. He was not tolerating this any longer. “No, absolutely not.”

“Yes,” Lydia insisted.

“There’s so many great movies you’ve never seen,” Jackson countered, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel, “Hoosiers? Gene Hackman! Dennis Hopper! Yeah, it’s a sports movie, but it’s a classic and I think you’d really like it!”

“Maybe I would but I want to watch the Notebook,” Lydia repeated.

Jackson groaned. “I am not watching the Notebook again. What about Kickass? Or Inception?”

“We’re not at a Redbox, we’re at Video 2*C,” Lydia pointed out, pointing at the glowing neon sign on the building in front of them. “So, we don’t want new movies. We’re watching the Notebook.”

Jackson clenched his jaw and went in for one last argument. “You have picked that movie the last six times we’ve done a movie night.”

* * *

 

The video store was a decrepit reminder of a time long gone -- a time when you couldn’t get basically whatever you wanted from Netflix or get new releases out of a nice little vending machine. But, for whatever reason, Lydia had insisted on going to this video store to get a DVD -- even though she was now the one waiting in the car. Jackson was hardly surprised to find flickering lights when he came in.

It was a little bit stranger that there were no employees in sight. In the middle of the store, a folding ladder was set up beneath one of the fluorescent light fixture and a long, flickering bulb was hanging from the ceiling. Someone was in the middle of fixing that -- so at least someone had to be here. Somewhere.

“Hello?” Jackson called out. He sighed deeply. “Can someone help me find the Notebook?”

There was no answer.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jackson made his way towards the ladder -- the only evidence that anyone had ever worked here. As he approached, he caught sight of a shoe lying across the aisle from the ladder.

Sleeping on the job? On the floor? This moron was going to end up collecting unemployment for the rest of his life if Jackson had anything to say about it. He stormed around the corner, enraged -- and then stopped dead in his tracks.

The Video 2*C clerk was lying on the floor, but he definitely wasn’t sleeping. His throat had been torn open -- blood had spilled down his chest and pooled on the floor. Jackson stumbled backwards into the ladder, knocking it to the ground and taking the half-repaired fluorescent lights with it. The whole room went dark, except for the eerie red glow of exit signs on either end of the room and one slowly flickering light at the back of the store.

Something moved, several rows down.

“Oh shit,” Jackson breathed, ducking down behind the shelves. Whoever or whatever had killed the store clerk was still here.

There was a rattling sound -- DVDs falling from their shelf. Jackson stuck his head out to see why, just in time to see a shelving unit topple forwards -- knocking over the one in front of it… and the next. Jackson was going to be crushed if he didn’t act fast. He lunged forward…

Not fast enough. The shelves landed on Jackson’s legs. “Shit, shit, shit,” Jackson gasped, struggling to no avail. He wasn’t being crushed, but he definitely couldn’t get out from underneath them.

He could hear the heavy breathing of some sort of animal drawing close behind his head. And then, he felt the claws. They seemed to poke at the back of his neck, at the scab over whatever it was Scott’s dealer had done to him. The cut suddenly stung, pulsating. He cried out in pain, and the creature -- whatever it was -- fled. Jackson didn’t turn his head until the sound of shattered glass assured him that it was truly gone.

* * *

 

“And that’s why I wanted to see the Notebook again!” Lydia beamed cheerfully into her phone’s camera, finishing up her daily vlog. “See ya tomorrow guys! Love ya!”

Suddenly the glass windows at the front of the store erupted. Lydia screamed. Whatever had done it, it was gone a split second later -- but the shattered glass proved she hadn’t just hallucinated.

It took at least full minute for her brain to regain its functions well enough to call the police.

* * *

 

“Can’t believe we’re eating this greasy stuff again,” Stiles said with a scolding tone, “This is the worst stuff you could possibly be eating, dad.” Fast food in the squad car had become something a routine between the two of them -- one of the only ways to get a family dinner in their household.

“Don’t you like it?” his father asked.

“I like it, yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I’m sixteen. I’m not worried about my cholesterol or my blood pressure or having a heart attack.”

His dad shrugged. “I’m not worried about those things either. I’m worried about whether or not they forgot my curly fries. Three times is a pattern, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to be eating curly fries,” Stiles insisted, “You might not be worried about your health but your doctor is, and so am I.”

“I’m carrying a lethal weapon,” the Sheriff reminded his son, “So I’m going to have my curly fries. You understand?”

Stiles popped a curly fry in his mouth. “Explain to me again why threatening to shoot me is isn’t an abuse of power?”

“Cause you never believe me. Give me the curly fries.”

“Nope,” Stiles shook his head.

The police radio crackled to life. “Unit 1, do you copy?”

Stiles reached for it, but his father shoved his hand away. “Do not answer my radio, Stiles,” he warned. He responded to the dispatcher with a simple, “Unit 1, copy.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved more curly fries in his mouth.

“Got a report of a possible 187,” the dispatcher explained.

Stiles’ eyes shot open. “A murder?” he exclaimed, spraying the fries all over the inside of the car.

* * *

 

“Well, the vamps are back,” Buffy announced to Giles, wiping the ashes that proved it off of herself, “So I’ll have plenty to do even if this Alpha werewolf never rears its ugly head again.”

“I don’t imagine that’s likely,” Giles said sternly, “Though I can’t explain its recent lack of activity. It shouldn’t need to rely on the phases of the moon or anything. Though the moon might contribute to making it more feral -- only when its full though.”

“Yeah, we’ve just got a huge number of questions and no answers,” Buffy agreed, “The monsters in this town are so complicated.”

“Be careful with that word,” Giles pointed out, “There are circles that would call your friend Scott a monster.”

“Hold that thought,” Buffy interrupted. Her phone was buzzing in her bag, sitting next to Giles on the stone wall. She hastily fished it out -- despite Giles’ protests that in a cemetery while on patrol was “neither the proper time or place for a social call” -- and answered.

Stiles was extremely excited on the other end. “My dad got called to a murder at Video 2*C -- Jackson and Lydia found the body -- but the EMTs are saying it was an animal attack.”

“An animal attack?” Buffy repeated.

“An animal attack inside the store,” Stiles explained, “But the windows are only broken like it busted out through them, so how did it get in?”

“I’m guessing you don’t think it was an animal when it went in,” Buffy surmised.

“Do you?” Stiles quipped, “Doesn’t this just scream messy werewolf hijinks?”

“How did you find all of this out?” Buffy asked.

“Dad told me to stay in the car, so naturally I’m over by the ambulance listening to everything they say. I called Scott already -- just get here?”

“On my way,” Buffy nodded, hanging up. She turned smugly to her Watcher. “Neither the time nor the place for a social call,” she mimicked in a terrible imitation of a British accent. “Werewolf attacks are just jolly good fun, not the time nor the place, wot wot. Cheerio.”

“I have never in my life said ‘wot wot’ or ‘cheerio’,” Giles grumbled, “Let’s be on our way.”

They headed out to the street and clambered into Giles’ car -- the Gilesmobile, Buffy had taken to calling it. The car was so ancient it was a miracle it ran at all -- even joggers could outpace it. After only two tries, the car sputtered to life and Giles began to pull away from the curb.

And then, quite suddenly, a man appeared in the middle of the street in front of them. Giles slammed on the brakes, and the car lurched to a stop -- barely out of its parking spot.

The apparition waved an apology and made a step -- as though to cross the street -- when suddenly his eyes widened in fear. His mouth opened in a silent scream. His head yanked backwards, and teeth marks appeared on his neck. Blood poured from them. Another appeared on his arm -- and then a third on his other arm. He fell limp, still suspended in the air by whatever was holding him, and then he vanished.

“What the hell was that?” Buffy demanded.

“This is presumptuous guess,” Giles said slowly, “But I would think that was the ghost of a victim of vampires.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s fantastic. Just great.”

* * *

 

Scott and Derek watched the crime scene unfold beneath them as they perched on the roof of the video store. Jackson was yelling that he wanted to leave, as EMTs carted a body bag out of the store on a gurney “I don’t understand this,” Scott shook his head, “This isn’t standard werewolf practice, right? Going out in the middle of the night and murdering random people?”

“Depends on the werewolf,” Derek admitted, “We’re predators. We don’t have to be killers. Even the most feral wouldn’t be doing this without a full moon.”

“Why did this happen tonight then?”

Derek shrugged. “We’re gonna have to find out. We’re going to the house.”

“My house?” Scott wondered aloud.

“No,” Derek groaned, “My house. Come on.”

“I have to do homework,” Scott countered, “I have to be at a parent teacher conference tomorrow night because I’m failing chemistry.”

“This coming from the kid who set up a sting operation in a nursing home to save the lives of practically dead old people? Do you want to do your homework or do you want to stop people from dying?” Derek retorted, “It’s not a full moon yet, but it will be soon. Next Monday. If you don’t join his pack by then, he’s probably going to kill you. And by ‘join his pack’, I mean, he’s going to make you kill someone.”

“How do you figure that?”

“His behavior so far, werewolf traditions, the fact that I’ve been a werewolf my whole life so I pretty much know what I’m talking about. That enough for you?”

“I don’t know how to stop him! And he got inside my head before, what if I can’t stop myself from killing somebody next time? What am I supposed to do?”

Derek shook his head. “I have to teach you to use your abilities. You can use them, and your bond to him, and find him. And then we can stop him.”

Scott sighed. “Teach me, then. Although, for the record, I have been managing pretty well. Did I tell you about the thing with the witch on Friday?”

“Twice,” Derek nodded, “And the thing about her spell making you completely useless. But you’re right, you’re making good progress. Let’s make better progress.”

* * *

 

Allison had laid in her bed as long as she possibly could get away with it. Anything, she reasoned, to make this day shorter. She glumly packed her bags and got dressed. Someone knocked on her door.

And so it began.

“Yeah?” Allison called out.

The door opened and Aunt Kate came in. “Hey,” she said with an awkward smile, “Listen, I really wanted to apologize some more about that dinner last week.”

Allison chuckled, despite her bad mood. “That’s like your thousandth apology.”

“I know but I still feel really bad,” Kate insisted, “And I haven’t been able to make up for it at all, and you haven’t even called me any bad names.”

“I don’t need to, it’s fine,” Allison said reassuringly.

Kate pushed on. “Call me a horrid bitch. Please!”

“You were being protective.”

“I was being a protective horrid bitch,” Kate went on.

“See, now you called yourself a horrid bitch,” Allison grinned, “Why do I have to?”

“You’ve got me there,” Kate nodded, “But, okay, let me give you a present. Right now.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “We’re not celebrating my birthday until tomorrow because of parent teacher conferences. Dad’s gonna be so mad at you if he finds out I didn’t open his gift first.”

“So don’t tell him,” Kate winked, holding out a small gift box. “Your birthday is today anyways, you should have something to open.”

“Alright,” Allison relented, taking the box. She lifted the lid off, revealing an ornate silver necklace. The center of the medallion featured a wolf. Above it was carved a sun, and below it, chains and a moon. “It’s beautiful,” Allison said, “Where did you get this?”

“It’s an old family heirloom,” Kate explained, “Really old. And you know I despise all of that sentimental crap, so let me just say, if you want to know about it you should Google it. And if you want to look like the bad ass chick you are, you should put it on.”

* * *

 

Except for Giles, Willow was the first one in the library that morning -- probably because she’d actually managed to have a good night’s sleep. The librarian quickly put her to work on research.

Xander only faked his surprise when he walked in a few minutes later. “You’re already doing work?”

“Looking through obituaries,” Willow explained, “Buffy and Giles saw a ghost last night.”

“A death echo, to be precise,” Giles added, “It’s a specific type of ghost. So we know how it died, we just don’t necessarily know where or when.”

“Wouldn’t it have died where it’s haunting?” Xander asked.

Giles shook his head. “Perhaps, or perhaps it is haunting where its remains are. That’s the trouble with cemetery ghosts, you can never be certain.”

“You said it was outside the cemetery though?” Willow raised her eyebrows.

“It’s possible it may not be able to manifest inside if the ground is consecrated,” Giles explained, “Though it’s difficult to say. There are very few hard and fast rules for ghosts.”

“There’s an awful lot of deaths that could be from vampires,” Willow groaned, “Neck ruptures, animal attacks… this would be easier if the obituary could just say vampire on it.”

“Was there a vampire death last night too?” Scott’s voice interrupted.

“Most likely not,” Giles began. Before he could catch Scott up to speed, Buffy and Stiles came in through the doors behind him. Neither one looked particularly happy.

“And what? I’m supposed to just investigate while your dad’s still there?” Buffy quipped, “‘Hi, Sheriff. I’m almost a cheerleader, can I look at your crime scene?’ I didn’t think that would go over well.”

“Okay, you win this one,” Stiles admitted, “Did you find anything when you finally got there?”

Buffy frowned. “No. I think we’re just going to need to know everything the police know.”

“That’s gonna be my job, isn’t it?” Stiles said.

“Any leads on the ghost, Giles?” Buffy shifted her focus.

“Ghost?” Stiles perked up, “Nobody said ghost!”

“So the ghost killed somebody?” Scott asked.

“No, it appeared to be a death echo,” Giles stated.

The teenagers were uniformly silent at this. Despite what a welcome change that made, it didn’t take long for Giles to realize that was because none of them really understood what he was talking about.

“Simply put, a death echo is a restless spirit forced to relive its painful death over and over until it is laid to rest,” the Watcher explained, “When it does its reenactment, it becomes visible to anyone. Everyone.”

“So it’s bad because people can see it?” Scott asked.

It was Giles’ turn to be silent.

“It’s bad, right? That’s why you’re all researching it instead of figuring out how to stop this werewolf?” Scott asked again.

“We didn’t find anything new there,” Buffy jumped in, “Y’know, once I could actually go in to look. Stiles. We don’t have anything we didn’t have last week.”

“Yeah, we do,” Stiles exclaimed, “There’s three victims! Derek’s sister, the bus driver, and the guy at the store. We just need to look for connections.”

“I hate to admit it, but Stiles has a point,” Giles conceded, “Though, if I had to guess, I’d suggest that Derek’s sister may not be part of the pattern. The werewolf likely killed her only to gain Alpha status for his or herself.”

“So we’re not working on the ghost anymore?” Willow frowned.

Giles shook his head. “There’s hardly anything we can do without his identity and no spellcasters about.”

“But I’m pretty sure that’s him,” Buffy pointed over Willow’s shoulder, jabbing her finger at a face on the screen.

Willow frowned. “No way, he’s from Oak Creek.”

“That’s only the next town over,” Xander offered helpfully.

“No,” Willow repeated, “He’s buried in Oak Creek. From what Giles told me, this kind of ghost can only manifest where they died or where their body is.”

Willow turned to Giles for confirmation of this, catching him in time to watch the color drain from his face. “Buffy, from what we saw, would you say that it’s possible the man was sired?”

Buffy shrugged. “His mouth was open so, I guess? Are you saying he’s a vampire and a ghost?”

Giles simply nodded grimly.

“Could you run that by us again?” Stiles asked.

Giles sighed and started again. “As you know, when someone becomes a vampire, a demonic essence inhabits their body. Their soul leaves. It isn’t destroyed, however, it simply moves on as though the person had died in most other ways. To wherever that soul may go. It is exceedingly rare, though it has occurred in a few instances, that the soul may not move on. It becomes a ghost.”

“So they’re recruiting?” Scott groaned.

Giles inclined his head in agreement. “It would make sense. Their numbers must have been depleted after the Harvest. The inactivity Buffy saw between then and now was likely because they traveled to Oak Creek where we were not watching for them.”

“So it’s two monsters for the price of one?” Xander quipped.

“What a bargain,” Stiles agreed.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I really miss L.A. Slay some vampires, buy some shoes, life was so simple.”

* * *

 

Allison arrived at her locker shortly before the bell rang. She exhaled deeply. All she had to do was get through today with nobody finding out that today was -- balloons exploded out of her locker and she pulled it open. “No, no, no!” She tried to shove the balloons back inside but to no avail. Stuck to the inside of the locker door was a cute pink and yellow birthday card, signed by Lydia.

Allison groaned. Lydia must have set all of this up on Friday. And she’d just walked right into it.

“What’s all this?” Scott’s voice cut into her increasingly panicked thoughts. Scott’s nice, calming voice. Thank goodness.

“Uhm, it’s, y’know…” Allison stammered, “My birthday.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Allison admitted, “I didn’t want anyone to know. I don’t know how Allison found out.”

“The Cordettes get into everyone’s files at some point,” Scott frowned.

“Are you coming from the library?” Allison peered behind him, desperate to find something to change the subject with.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. I’m doing some extra studying with Willow.”

“And Buffy?” Allison asked, spotting the short blonde girl walking down the hall with the redhead in question.

“Well, she needs a lot of help in everything,” Scott smirked.

“That place gives me the creeps,” Allison shuddered.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about your birthday?”

Allison’s eyes darted around, checking to see who was nearby. “I’m seventeen,” she whispered.

“Okay,” Scott blinked, “So you’re seventeen.”

“That, that right there, is what I’m trying to avoid,” Allison said, clenching her jaw.

“What?” Scott was completely confused at this point. “You had to repeat a year because of all the moving around your family does.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever just figured that out. Everyone usually thinks I got held back, or I rode the short bus or that I had a baby and had to skip a year.” Allison smiled and kissed Scott. “I didn’t have a baby.”

“Good to know,” Scott murmured.

Allison pulled away and went back to her locker. “So that’s what I put up with all day on my birthday. It’s great.”

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Scott observed.

Allison shook her head. “No, but where else am I going to be?”

“I have some thoughts,” Scott said, “Let’s go.”

“Skip the whole day?” Allison gasped, “I don’t know. I’ve never skipped a single class.”

“That’s perfect. So they’ll go easy on you if we get caught.”

“And what will happen to you?”

“Let’s not think about that.”

* * *

 

As soon as they spotted her in the hallway, Willow and Buffy made a beeline for Amy. “How was moving this weekend?” Willow asked.

“It was fine,” Amy said, “But my dad is completely impossible. He didn’t want me going anywhere, not even the Bronze. And I’m like ‘dad, it’s totally safe’.”

“Yeah, nothing bad ever happens at the Bronze,” Buffy muttered sarcastically.

Amy shrugged. “He’s just got all this guilt about leaving me with mom. Not like he really had a choice. But he’s being a total pain.”

“You love it!” Willow teased.

“Every second of it,” Amy admitted.

“Are you doing any abracadabra of your own now?” Buffy asked.

Amy shook her head. “No way. Look what that stuff did to my mom. I don’t want to be like that. Dad locked all her stuff up in a storage unit he has, and I’m not going near it. No way.”

“Probably for the best,” Buffy agreed halfheartedly, “What about brownies?”

“My stepmom makes the best brownies,” Amy exclaimed, “Gooey and they’ve got three kinds of chocolate…”

“Oh, Harmony, look, it’s the bumped-back-to-alternates squad,” Cordelia’s voice cut through their conversation, “So good you two -- and Willow -- can support each other in times like this. Because the rest of us just don’t care.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I know. It’s like so hard, you guys. Like, I already, like, miss the intellectual thrill of spelling out words with my arms.”

“Sour grapes, much?” Cordelia huffed and stormed away.

“You actually wanted to be a cheerleader, didn’t you?” Amy asked, “Are you upset?”

Buffy shook her head. “Cheering was supposed to be my safe activity. It’s a little too scary dangerous for me at this school though.”

“I get that,” Amy nodded.

“Any sign of your mom?” Willow wondered.

Amy shook her head. “No. I don’t think we’ll have to worry. That last spell was supposed to send someone to a place where they couldn’t be trouble, so my guess is she’s not going to be any trouble. As long as I’m back in my own body, though, I’m happy.”

“I’m glad you’re back in your body too,” Willow said, “Your mom was kind of a terrible friend when she was you.”

“Hey, do you guys want to come over some time this week?” Amy asked, “There is no way I can eat all of these brownies my stepmom keeps making without some help. I’ll get hugely fat.”

“I hear that look is in for spring,” Buffy quipped, “But I _suppose_ I could help you.”

* * *

 

“So we have no spellcaster to help with the ghost,” Stiles repeated, “And no leads. Have you noticed how often this happens to us?”

“Yeah,” Willow nodded, “I gotta get to class.”

“You don’t want to rescue me from Chem class?” Stiles grimaced.

Willow shrugged. “I do, but I need Mr. Harris to not hate me any more than he already does when I take Chem next semester.”

As Willow disappeared down the hall, the bell rang. Mr. Harris gave it no time before snapping, “Stiles, is there something wrong with your seat?”

Stiles slumped to his seat from the doorway. All the monsters they’d seen and defeated this semester alone, and he was still stuck with the worst one of them all.

“Friendly reminder,” Mr. Harris began in a tone that was anything but friendly, “Parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Anyone below a C average is required to attend with their respective parent or guardian. I don’t want to name anyone because the shame would too much to bear.” There was an extremely uncomfortable silence before he continued. “Has anyone seen Scott McCall today? Someone may want to remind him of that.”

Stiles was a little ashamed that he hadn’t noticed his best friend’s absence sooner. That could not be a good thing. Or, maybe, Scott just figured he needed a break from the horrors of Sunnydale and skipped Chem class.

The door of the classroom opened. Stiles looked, expecting to see Scott. But he was greeted with another wholly unpleasant surprise.

Jackson Whittemore. He was far less sure of himself than usual -- he still seemed rattled from the events of the night before. He wordlessly stomped to his chair and took his seat.

Mr. Harris -- showing some compassion after all -- ignored Jackson’s late entrance instead of hitting him with a detention. “Everyone, begin reading Chapter 9. And Mr. Stilinski, it is not a coloring book. It might behoove you to put down the highlighter once in a while.”

Stiles scowled, and continued highlighting every word of Chapter 9 unabated, glancing up to look around the room every so often. Mr. Harris was oblivious -- or seemed that way at least -- in his own reading at his desk. All the students seemed to be actually working, except Jackson who was staring absently at a page in their Chemistry book but was clearly not reading it.

Curiosity, as usual, got the better of Stiles. He leaned forward to whisper to Danny, sitting in front of him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” Danny replied.

“I’m going to anyways.”

“Great.” Stiles could practically hear Danny rolling his eyes.

“Was Lydia in your homeroom today?” Stiles asked. Not that that meant too much, Stiles hardly ever made it to homeroom himself. It was a fifteen minute class to start the day, served almost no purpose. Except that it was a useful place to gossip.

“No,” Danny answered.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“I said no to the first question,” Danny hissed, finally tearing his gaze away from the Chemistry textbook, “That’s still the answer.”

“Did Jackson tell you what happened to him and Lydia last night?”

Danny shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me.” That was unnerving -- everyone knew Jackson and Danny told each other everything. Probably way too much to be healthy.

“Jackson wouldn’t tell you? Jackson?” Stiles had to be certain.

Danny shrugged and turned back to his reading.

“One last question,” Stiles interjected, “Hugely important.”

“What?” Danny snapped.

Stiles took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Danny’s silence was deafening.

“I’m just trying to find out if I’m attractive to gay guys,” Stiles explained, leaning even forward, “Can you… just? It’s cool, just tell me. Danny? ...Danny?!”

* * *

 

“Scott’s missing,” Stiles announced, slamming his backpack down on the cafeteria table.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. “Missing?”

“Lydia’s missing. Jackson’s a mess. And now Scott’s missing. And a guy is dead, and vampires are recruiting, and making ghosts too,” Stiles ranted, “This is not a good day!”

“Calm down,” Xander exclaimed, “Everyone will hear you.”

“It’s Stiles,” Willow pointed out, “Even if they hear him, no one will be surprised that he’s talking crazy. Or care very much.”

“Thank you, Willow, what an ego boost,” Stiles glared.

Buffy shook her head, “One thing at a time, for a minute anyways, please? Where is Scott?”

“No idea,” Stiles shrugged, “He hasn’t been in any classes today, and he’s not answering my texts.”

“Okay,” Buffy did not seem at all frazzled by this, “I haven’t seen Allison today either. I’m guessing that’s not a coincidence. Like, maybe they’re skipping school together?”

“She’s a bad influence on him,” Xander joked, “Kids today.”

“Her family are hunters,” Stiles snapped, “This isn’t funny. Maybe they’re skipping school so she can skin him alive?”

“Did you try calling him or did you just text him?” Willow asked, “Scott’s really bad at answering texts.”

“I’ll call him. If I were him, I’d be avoiding Stiles right now too,” Xander smirked, taking his cell phone out of his pocket.

* * *

 

Scott grabbed his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket as it exploded into musical jingles. “Xander, what is it?”

“Well, hi Scott, nice to hear you’re alive,” Stiles’ voice came through.

“Why are you using Xander’s phone?”

“You didn’t answer any of my nine hundred texts!” Stiles exclaimed, “I thought you were dead!”

“I’m not dead, I’m fine,” Scott groaned, “I’m with Allison. But, obviously, don’t tell anyone.”

“Look, Lydia’s missing, Jackson’s going to crazy town, bad things are going on! It is not a good day to be disappearing on me!”

“I’m not disappearing on you, I’m with Allison,” Scott repeated, “I gotta go.” He quickly ended the phone call -- just in time to notice they were about to get horribly lost. “Left, left, left!”

Allison obediently took a sharp left, slapping her right arm across Scott’s chest. After they successfully made the turn, she burst out laughing. “Sorry, I completely mom-armed you. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Scott chuckled, “I can pick up my masculinity on the way back.”

A few minutes later, Scott announced that they had arrived.

“Are we even still in Sunnydale?” Allison asked as they got out of the car.

“Nope,” Scott explained, “Oak Creek. Neighboring town. But they have the coolest woods.” Certainly less dangerous than the woods in Sunnydale, but it would be hard to explain that to Allison -- especially without telling her that he was a werewolf.

Allison, however, was fidgeting with her cell phone.

“Still not okay with this, huh?” Scott asked.

Allison shrugged. “Sorry. I’m trying to be. I just feel like I need an alibi.”

“If we get caught, I’ll say it was my idea,” Scott assured her.

“You don’t have to take the blame for me,” Allison shook her head, “I made the choice to do this too. You didn’t force me into it.”

“Good,” Scott grinned, “It’ll be a lot easier for me to blame you. Who’s going to blame me for skipping school when a beautiful girl invites me to?”

“Oh, you’re gonna just throw me under the bus? Okay, fine,” Allison teased, grabbing a hold of Scott’s arm, “I’ll just have to drag you down with me.”

“I’ll cry for help,” Scott insisted.

Allison giggled, and then kissed him. “And if I do that?”

“Scream. Scream for help,” Scott smiled, going in for another kiss.

* * *

 

The gang was meeting in the library for ghost research or something, but Stiles wasn’t having any part of it. He needed to know that Lydia was okay. Xander had said something about “a crush turning into an obsession”, but Stiles wasn’t going to let that phase him at all. He drove to Lydia’s house as quickly as he could after classes ended.

Mrs. Martin let him in and led him to Lydia’s bedroom. She knocked on the door. “Lydia, honey, there’s a Stiles here to see you?”

“What the hell is a stiles?” Lydia’s voice came through the door. She sounded groggy.

“She took something for her nerves,” Mrs. Martin said, “You can go in. Leave the door open.”

“Right, yes, thanks,” Stiles pushed the bedroom door open.

Lydia was sprawled across her bed in a blue nighty. She’d definitely taken a lot of something for her nerves. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Stiles shrugged, “I was worried about you today. How are you feeling?”

Lydia nodded and patted the bed, inviting Stiles to take a seat next to her. “I feel fantastic.”

“Okay, good,” Stiles said awkwardly, “Do you mind if I ask about what happened?”

“What happened when?”

Stiles’ eye fell on the almost empty pill bottle on her bedside table, nestled between the legs of a small stuffed giraffe. “Right. Probably not a good time to talk about last night.”

“Last night?” Lydia repeated.

“No, we can talk about it another time,” Stiles stammered.

“Last night, I saw…” Lydia paused mid-sentence, and then repeated herself. “I saw. I saw.”

“Saw what?”

“A mountain lion.” Lydia finally finished.

Stiles frowned. “Are you sure it was a mountain lion? Or is that just what the police told you it was?”

“A mountain lion,” Lydia repeatedly absently.

Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously and grabbed the giraffe off of Lydia’s beside table. “What animal is this?”

“A mountain lion,” Lydia said with conviction.

“And you’re too out of it to know anything,” Stiles groaned inwardly, “Awesome.”

* * *

 

Buffy had pretty much given up on research. There seemed to be no way, short of a magical intervention that was not coming, to figure out where the ghost was or where it was going to turn up next.

Giles summarized the little they had gleaned. “It’s likely that the death echo is remaining nearby its remains -- that is to say, the vampire. The simplest way to put a spirit to rest is to salt and burn the remains, though that is considerably easier when the remains are not…”

“Alive and trying to kill you?” Buffy finished.

“Well, yes,” Giles nodded.

“But don’t vampires turn to ash when they get killed?” Xander asked.

Willow spun around in her computer chair. “Xander, that’s kind of genius.”

“Words I never thought I’d hear, much less agree with,” Giles quipped.

Xander frowned at Giles and then asked. “Why?”

“Because they do turn to ash,” Willow nodded, “So maybe all Buffy needs to do is stake the vampire. Maybe that would be the same as burning the remains.”

“What about the salt part?” Buffy wondered.

“I suppose we’ll find out. On patrol tonight.”

“Parent-teacher conferences are tonight,” Buffy frowned, “But alright.”

* * *

 

Scott grabbed Allison’s forearm, just in time to keep her from falling as she lost her footing on a log. “Gotcha,” he smiled.

“Thanks,” she returned the grin, “I think you just earned your masculinity back.” They continued their trek for a minute, before Allison took out her phone and started tapping away at the keys.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, “Mine’s off, yours is too.”

“I’m just thanking Lydia for the birthday stuff,” Allison replied, “After that we can disconnect from the whole world and I will be all yours, okay?”

* * *

 

The awkward silence that filled Lydia’s bedroom was astonishing. Stiles was used to awkwardness, but nothing like this. “I think I’m gonna go,” he said finally, “You’re clearly busy with your whole post-traumatic stress thing, and I have… stuff…”

“Stay,” Lydia said sleepily.

“Stay?” Stiles asked, “Me? Stay? You want me to stay?”

“Yes, please,” Lydia murmured, “Please, Jackson?”

Stiles grimaced. “That’s really a great mood killer, Lydia.”

She hadn’t heard him, she had completely fallen asleep. Even the sudden jingling of her phone, announcing a new text, didn’t stir her.

“You want me to get that?” Stiles asked, “Or put it on silent or something?” She didn’t answer, obviously, but he snatched the phone off her bedside table anyways. He stared at it for a moment. “I have no idea what kind of phone this even is, Lydia, I can’t…”

She still didn’t stir.

“Can’t be that hard to figure out how to put it on silent,” Stiles muttered to himself, pressing points on the touchscreen at random. Suddenly a video pulled up and started to play -- a video of a monstrous, wolf-like creature crashing through the window of Video 2*C. “That is not a mountain lion.”

* * *

 

“He wants us to wait,” Ulrich said as they approached the Hale House. Again. Really, Kate had managed to pick the two most obnoxious hunters in the Californian branch of the Order to accompany her on this little expedition. She should have come alone.

“I’ve been reminded,” she sneered, “To death.”

“That means we can’t kill him,” Leveque offered helpfully.

Kate shrugged. “I was just planning to say hello.” Without any further ado she strode up the front steps and kicked open the front door.

There was no sign of anyone. There was no sign anyone even lived in the burnt out shell of a home. But Kate knew better.

“Nobody’s here,” Ulrich observed.

Idiot. “He’s here, he’s just not putting out the welcome mat,” Kate snapped.

“He might be out burying a bone,” Leveque said. He looked proud of himself for that horrid joke.

“A dog joke?” Kate groaned, wandering deeper into the house and leaving her compatriots by the door. “We’re doing dog jokes and that’s what you brought to the table? See, someone cleverer might say something like, ‘Hey, Derek, too bad about your sister biting it before she had her first litter.’ Too bad she howled like a bitch when we cut her in half.”

Leveque let out a shriek, followed by a hard thud as he slammed into a wall and fell to the ground, unconscious. Finally, Derek Hale had come out to play.

Kate spun around, just in time to see Derek -- wolfed out and shirtless, she was gratified to note -- kick Ulrich in the face, knocking him out cold too. Kate grinned, taking the cattle prod from her belt. Derek roared, gnashing his fangs, and charged. Unperturbed, Kate held out her weapon and sent an electric shock through the werewolf’s body, knocking him to the ground -- back fully in his human form. “You grew up in all the right places, Derek,” Kate mused, observing his muscles as he twisted in pain, “Should I kill you, or lick you?  Or both?”

* * *

 

Stiles slumped into the chair at his desk. Stiles had made the executive decision to send Lydia’s video to his own phone, when he finally figured out how, and then deleted it from hers. He’d watched it several times since he’d gotten home, finally admitting to himself that there was nothing in it that they didn’t already know. A monstrous wolf-creature had busted out of a storefront window. Useless. Totally useless.

“Hey,” his dad appeared in his bedroom doorway, “Tell me I’m gonna hear good news at this parent-teacher conference.”

“How would you define good news?” Stiles shrugged.

“You getting straight A’s and having no behavioral issues,” the sheriff said sternly.

Stiles grimaced. “That’s a very limiting definition and you might want to rethink it.”

As his dad vanished, Stiles rubbed his chin. If he wasn’t going to get any clues from the monster, it was time to figure out if he could any clues from the victims. Just because Giles hadn’t like the idea that morning didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.

* * *

 

Derek made his best effort to crawl away from Kate, but each time he made a little progress she’d just zap him again. There was much pain, he couldn’t transform out of his human form. He couldn’t even stand.

“900,000 volts,” Kate finally explained, “We have these specially made for us. And you’ve never been good with electricity. Or fire, actually. But look, I’m not here to ruin your life, again. I just need some help. And maybe I can help you too.”

Derek cast a pleading look up at her, silently begging her to get the hell out of his house. She ignored it.

“You see, your sister was cut in half by Argent hunters, that’s true,” Kate acknowledged, “We were using her as bait. But we ended up drawing you out, and that’s not the werewolf we had in mind. The whole thing is unpleasant and has this kind of ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ vibe to it that I, personally, would have tried to avoid. But here’s the kicker… we didn’t kill her.”

Derek spat at her with derision.

“Oh, sweetie, you think I’m lying?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Derek snarled through gritted teeth.

“You can always listen to my heart and tell me if I am,” Kate shrugged, “We did not kill your sister.”

Her heart was even. She was telling the truth.

“There were bite marks on her,” Kate went on, “And the autopsy the cops did will confirm it. Your sister was killed by a mountain lion, they say. I don’t think that’s true. Your sister was killed by a werewolf. An Alpha werewolf. All you have to do is tell us who he is, and we will solve this problem for you.”

Derek just stared coldly at her.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Kate guessed, “He probably wasn’t an Alpha at all until he killed Laura.”

“Don’t use her name,” Derek snarled.

“That makes you totally useless to me,” Kate sighed, grasping for the gun strapped to her back.

In her moment of distraction, Derek launched himself from the floor and through an open window -- a shower of bullets followed him, but he was moving too fast for Kate to hit. He just had to hope she wouldn’t follow him into the woods.

* * *

 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Summers,” Willow inclined her head politely.

“And both of you,” Buffy’s mom smiled, “Please call me Joyce. I’ve heard so much about you. Willow, your study sessions have really helped Buffy a lot.”

“I don’t know if that reflects in my grades yet,” Buffy offered.

“I’ll find out tonight, won’t I?” Joyce smiled, “I had frozen dinners in the freezer for you and Dawn but if your friends are coming over, let me give you some money to order a pizza.”

“Yes!” Dawn exclaimed, “I love your friends, Buffy!”

Buffy teased, “That’s because you don’t have any of your own.”

“Girls,” Joyce warned, “Behave. I’m trusting you to look after your sister while I’m out.”

“Well, have fun,” Xander smiled, and waved, ushering Joyce out the door as soon as she’d handed Buffy some cash, “Don’t stay out too late!”

As soon as the door was shut, Dawn crossed her arms. “What’s happening, Buffy?”

“I have to go out on patrol,” Buffy explained, “Willow and Xander are going to keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn whined.

“You can order a pizza for yourself,” Buffy shook her head, “But you know you can’t stay safe from the things I’m worried about. And remember, don’t invite the pizza guy inside. Don’t invite anyone inside.”

* * *

 

Mr. Harris sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore. Both seemed completely unsurprised by anything they’d heard. This was good -- parents who know their child. “Jackson is a highly motivated student. I’d even describe him as unusually motivated.”

“We were hoping he’d start to ease up on himself, actually,” Mr. Whittemore frowned, “He’s very hard on himself. We have always assumed it was an effect of his being adopted.”

“Of course,” Mr. Harris nodded, “Having never met his biological parents, he’d be looking to make them proud even though he’s never met them. My concern is that, this semester his desire for achievement seems to have recalibrated… several notches higher. He seems almost obsessed with success.”

* * *

 

Natalie Martin shook Ms. Ramsey’s hand and took a seat.

“I’m sure you know there is plenty to say about Lydia,” Ms. Ramsey began.

“As I predicted,” Mr. Martin rolled his eyes.

Natalie sighed. “Well everyone could have predicted your complete nuclear meltdown.”

“Is it her grades? Concentration issues? Is she acting out?”

“If she’s acting out,” Natalie interrupted, “It’s likely because her father made her choose who she wants to live with like that wasn’t going to warp her.”

“Just tell us what the problem is,” Mr. Martin turned his attention back to Ms. Ramsey.

Ms. Ramsey smiled, “I was not aware there was a problem, actually. She’s the smartest student I have -- possibly that I have ever had -- and is one of the most popular girls in the school. She displays outstanding leadership qualities. Which is especially remarkable given what I’ve just seen of her home situation.”

* * *

 

Dr. Gregory smiled warmly at Joyce Summers. “Buffy is a very complicated girl, isn’t she?” he began.

Joyce nodded. “To put it lightly.”

“We’re working very hard to give her a fresh start here,” Dr. Gregory nodded, “We’ve only had a couple of weeks to get to know her so far, but really she’s a wonderful addition to our school community.”

“Really?” Joyce beamed.

“She’s a quick-thinker,” Dr. Gregory went on, “She’s not afraid to ask for help when she needs it. But she’s also eager to help anyone else who might need it. And if she wants something, she is quite driven to achieve it. If there’s any area where I think she needs work, it’s time management and punctuality.”

“Oh, I certainly agree with that,” Joyce nodded.

“Overall, I’m not too worried about her,” Dr. Gregory concluded, “She’s in a difficult position, new school, new town, coming in after the start of the semester. But I think she’ll do well here.”

* * *

 

“I thought Stiles was his last name,” Coach Finstock shook his head.

“His last name is Stilinski,” Sheriff Stilinski said, clearly unimpressed, “Like mine.”

“You named your kids Stiles Stilinski?” Coach Finstock exclaimed, “That’s practically torture.”

The sheriff groaned. “No, that’s just what he likes to be called.”

“I like to be called ‘cupcake’,” Coach Finstock muttered, “Okay, what is his real first name?”

“Isn’t it on your file?”

“Oh, sure,” Coach Finstock shifted through some of the papers strewn about his desk. “Wow. What kind of name is that?”

“Polish,” Sheriff Stilinski replied, “It was his mother’s father’s name.”

“You must really love your wife.”

“I did,” Sheriff Stilinski answered sharply.

Coach Finstock’s eyes widened. “This just became incredibly awkward.”

“Why don’t you just talk to me about how my kid is doing in school, cupcake?”

“I like that idea,” Finstock nodded, “So. Stiles. Great kid. Really. Zero ability to focus. Incredibly smart, but he never takes advantage of his talents to do well in class.”

“What do you mean?” Sheriff Stilinski asked.

“Okay, so finals last semester, right?” Coach Finstock explained, “For the final question he wrote a detailed analysis of the entire history of the male circumcision.”

“That does have historical significance, right?” Sheriff Stilinski nodded, “I mean, I’m not well-versed on the topic but…”

“I teach economics.”

* * *

 

Ms. Calendar smiled. “I am so pleased to meet both of you, Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg.”

Willow’s parents simply nodded.

“I know we’re not supposed to play favorites here,” Ms. Calendar went on, “But Willow is one of my most delightful students. If she was in every class I taught, I would be extremely happy. She is attentive and inquisitive and really puts in so much effort into her classes. And not just my class, she has a knack for balancing all of her school work.”

“Well, we’re so proud,” Mrs. Rosenberg said, blinking as though she’d hardly heard a word of it. “Our little girl is starting high school right.”

“Willow is a sophomore,” Ms. Calendar pointed out, “And has been one. For about seven months.”

“Well, anyways,” Mrs. Rosenberg nodded again, “We’re so glad we had this conference with you. Such a pleasure.”

* * *

 

Melissa McCall hung up her cell phone. “He’s not answering,” she shrugged, “I am so sorry. I don’t know where he is.”

“Shall we begin anyways?” Mr. Harris asked.

“Sure.”

“Lately, Scott’s mind has been elsewhere,” Mr. Harris said, “Actually, so has his body. I believe this may be a result of his home situation.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Melissa replied.

“Scott seems to be lacking an authority figure,” Mr. Harris explained.

“I’m the authority figure,” Melissa interrupted.

Mr. Harris shook his head, “I apologize. I meant the lack of a male authority figure.”

“No,” Melissa shook her head, “We are better off without him in the picture. Trust me.”

“Does Scott feel the same way?”

“Yes,” Melissa said shortly. Or at least, she hoped so.

“He is going through some difficult changes,” Mr. Harris pointed out, “He needs a guiding hand.”

* * *

 

“Alexander Harris,” Dr. Gregory said thoughtfully, “How can I best describe him?”

“Lazy?” Xander’s father offered.

“Actually, I wouldn’t call him lazy,” Dr. Gregory shook his head, “He works quite hard in class, he just is…”

“Useless?”

“Not focused, not prioritizing his school work,” Dr. Gregory countered sharply, “It reflects in his grades, simply. He seldom does his homework on time and his test scores are rather poor. I’ve suggested to him that he might need tutoring.”

“I dunno if that would help.”

“I have to say, I’m more concerned about Xander’s emotional well-being. How is he dealing with the disappearance of his best friend? That can be quite devastating at any age,” Dr. Gregory added, “But in high school, especially, it’s important that he have a support system.”

* * *

 

Ms. Calendar took a sip from her water bottle, glancing over Mr. and Mrs. Chase. They were exactly what she’d expected. She would need to handle this delicately. “Cordelia is a wonder to have in class,” Ms. Calendar said, “She always has something to say and she’s never afraid to say it.”

“That’s my girl,” Mr. Chase smiled proudly.

“She’s a natural-born leader,” Ms. Calendar went on, “And the student flock to her. She’s absolutely charismatic. As a student, however, her work leaves something to be desired. She seldom pays attention in class, and although she does all of her work it is clear she’s not putting in the effort.”

“Well, she’s very busy,” Mrs. Chase pointed out, “Perhaps you could ease up on her?”

Ms. Calendar just sighed.

* * *

 

“Allison Argent has done nothing but impress me,” Ms. Ramsey explained, “She is incredibly sweet and has adjusted quickly, despite all the moving around.”

“It’s a necessary evil in my line of work,” Mr. Argent said, a tinge of guilt in his voice.

Ms. Ramsey nodded understandingly. “Necessary or not, I’d be prepared for some… rebellion.”

“Though we appreciate the concern, we have a very open and honest relationship with our daughter,” Mrs. Argent.

“I am happy to hear that,” Ms. Ramsey smiled, “Let her know that I hope she’s feeling better.”

“She wasn’t in class?” Mr. Argent asked.

“She wasn’t in school at all today, I checked with the office,” Ms. Ramsey replied, raising her eyebrows in concern, “I assumed she was ill.”

* * *

 

Allison pulled the car into the school parking lot. “This was the perfect birthday, thank you. I wish it didn’t have to end.”

“I can’t believe we lost track of time,” Scott groaned, “We’re so late. I’m so dead. I was supposed to be at my mom’s conference with Mr. Harris.”

“Well, with our phones off…” Allison pointed out, grinning. She leaned in to kiss him, but Scott pulled away.

“Look,” he pointed towards the school. An angry-looking woman was standing just outside the door.

“Your mom?” Allison asked.

Scott nodded. “Yes. I’m dead meat.”

* * *

 

Tonight’s patrol had started out fairly eventfully -- Buffy had already staked a vampire. But not the one that she was hoping to find. Giles had decided that it would be best to stay in the vicinity of where they’d seen the ghost the night before.

“If we find him,” Giles said, not for the first time, “He should be fairly easy to take on. He is a fledgling, new vampire after all.”

“Somehow, I don’t find much comfort in that,” Buffy sighed, “Mostly because you started out with the word ‘if’.”

The next half hour was notably dull -- until, finally, another vampire appeared. This one, Buffy was grateful to note, looked exactly like the ghost they’d seen the night before.

“They didn’t tell me the meals would deliver themselves to us,” he hissed.

Buffy smirked. “It’s not delivery. It’s also not DiGiorno.”

The vampire’s expression changed to one of confusion that lasted only moments, as Buffy launched herself at him, kicking him in the stomach and knocking him back. “You’re strong!” he gasped.

“I’m Buffy, actually,” she replied, “The vampire slayer. Nice to meet you.”

The vampire charged, tackling Buffy, but it was a move she was ready for. She rolled with him, throwing him off of her and bodily into a gravestone. She jumped to her feet, stake at the ready.

“I’ve been waiting for you all night,” she admitted, “You could say I’m a fan.”

She easily dodged the vampire’s next attack, thrusting the stake into his heart. He inhaled sharply before disintegrating into ashes.

“Buffy, look,” Giles pointed a little ways off.

The spirit they had seen the night before had materialized. Before Buffy could ask if there was more they needed to do, it erupted into a shower of sparks that drifted skywards and disappeared.

“So that’s mission accomplished?” Buffy wondered.

Giles nodded proudly. “It appears to be.”

“Good. I have to get home before my mom does.”

* * *

 

Chris Argent burst out of the school on his phone. “Allison, call me back before your punishment reaches Biblical proportions.”

“Kate hasn’t heard from her either,” Victoria announced, hanging up her phone.

Chris shook his head. “She doesn’t do this. She has never done this.”

“Excuse me,” a woman approached them, “Are you Allison Argent’s parents?”

“We are,” Chris replied coldly.

“I’m Scott’s mom,” she introduced herself, “I hate to say it, but he’s not answering his phone either.”

“You’re his mother,” Chris snapped.

“You say that like it’s an accusation,” the woman retorted.

“I wouldn’t call it a source of pride, since he practically kidnapped my daughter.”

“My daughter--”

The sound of a car door slamming interrupted them.

“...is right there.” He finished, calmer.

“Funny that she has a car, but my son kidnapped her,” Scott’s mom muttered before marching towards Scott as he emerged from the vehicle. “Where have you been?”

“Not at school,” Scott admitted.

“Obviously.”

“It’s not his fault,” Allison jumped in, “It’s my birthday and I…”

“Allison,” Chris cut her off, “Get in the car.”

A woman in the parking lot screamed -- panic seemed to be emerging everywhere as parents raced to their cars, screaming and yelling.

“What’s happening?” Allison asked.

Chris made his way towards his vehicle -- whatever was happening, he wanted to be armed. He lost sight of Scott and his mother, but Allison was wandering aimlessly through the parking lot -- curiously trying to figure out what was happening. People were getting in their cars and trying to drive away, despite the panicking people throughout the lot.

There was a growl. Now Chris knew exactly what was happening.

“Move, move,” Sheriff Stilinski’s voice called out. Chris turned just in time to see a car back into the sheriff -- knocking him to the ground. Chris rushed in that direction but stopped short when he caught a glimpse of the animal -- a mountain lion, as he’d expected. He drew the gun he’d gotten from the car and fired. Two shots, and the creature fell to the ground.

He couldn’t believe they’d let the animal get this close to the school. That was decidedly not the plan.

“Dad,” Allison’s voice registered from behind him, “How could you just kill an innocent animal like that?”

“A dangerous animal,” Chris argued, “It’s probably the mountain lion that’s been killing people.”

“Probably,” Allison retorted.

Chris scowled. “We have bigger things to discuss, Allison. Like how many years you’re going to be grounded for.”

* * *

 

“What’s happening, Stiles?” Willow asked, answering her cell phone. Xander and Dawn were both sound asleep in front of the television.

“I found something,” Stiles said, “But I don’t know if we can tell Scott. There’s a connection between the bus driver and the guy from the video store.”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to tell Scott?” Willow asked.

“He’d have to keep it from Derek,” Stiles explained, “I’m not sure he’s a good enough liar to manage that.”

“What’s the connection?” Willow exclaimed, “This kind of build up is not okay!”

“The guy from the video store was suspected of arson several times,” Stiles explained, “And the bus driver… hang on, I’m getting another call.”

“Just tell me quickly,” Willow was truly getting exasperated.

“The bus driver was an insurance investigator,” Stiles finished, “He used to investigate fires. It’s Scott, I have to go.”

Willow blinked in confusion as the call ended. Everything just kept coming back to the Hales.

 

...to be continued...


	9. Heart Monitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scott learns more about being a werewolf -- and being a teenager -- and Giles plays nice with the not-so-friendly neighborhood werewolf hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so so so so so sorry it took so freaking long to get this up. I have been having the *worst* year with technology. But things seems to be working better now *knock on wood* so you won't have to wait a year for the next chapter. Hope y'all are still with me!

Scott stared around the parking garage. He had literally no idea where he’d parked. And he only had fifteen minutes before he had to pay for another hour of parking. If only his werewolf superpowers came with the power of never losing your car. He fished the keys out of his pocket -- wrestling with the bags in his hands as he did. Finally freeing them, he punched the button on the keychain with his thumb.

Nothing.

Back to the stairs, and up another level of the garage, he tried again. This time he heard a very distant chirping -- from above him. He turned to head back to the elevator when he heard another sound -- a growl.

Scott dropped his bags and ran. Had the Alpha found him again? Was it another werewolf? What werewolf was crazy enough to be shifted in a mall parking garage? Not one Scott wanted to run into, that was for certain. As he ran past a row of cars, inspiration struck. He leapt on top of the hood of one, and then jumped from that car to the next. The alarms of each car rang out. That should be enough to deafen any shifted werewolf. It practically deafened Scott. Leaping off the last car, Scott darted across an aisle and into another row of cars. He weaved his way through those cars, finally crouching down next to the tire of a car that was nowhere near the ones he’d jumped on.

It would have been perfect if his phone hadn’t started to ring. Allison’s ring tone.

Before he could it turn it off, a hand clasped his shoulders. “You’re dead.”

“You scared the crap out of me, Derek!” Scott exclaimed.

“You wanted me to teach you. This is me teaching you,” Derek smirked, “Things are very dangerous right now. You need to be careful.”

“I’m less concerned about being brutally murdered by hunters than I am about being brutally murdered by my mother if I don’t get the car back to her before she has to leave for work tonight,” Scott retorted.

“So you don’t want me to teach you anymore?”

Scott sighed and started walking back to his bags. “I do. So… alright, I was fast right?”

“Would’ve been faster if you’d shifted some,” Derek shrugged.

“The car alarm thing was smart, wasn’t it?” Scott went on.

Derek nodded. “I was impressed til your phone rang.”

“So, to improve… put my phone on silent, and learn to control the shifts more,” Scott concluded, “That second part, that’s what I need your help with. I can’t fully control it. I either shift all the way or just a tiny bit. So I can’t use these powers if there’s people around. If I could maybe I could have helped Stiles’ dad last night.”

“Blaming yourself for the mountain lion?” Derek smirked, “That was a hunter’s trick.”

“I’m blaming myself for Mr. Stilinski getting hit by a car. So is Stiles. He didn’t talk to me all day today.”

“My heart bleeds for you,” Derek quipped, “Really.”

“Just tell me what I need to do,” Scott groaned.

“Look,” Derek explained, “Control isn’t easy. But it’s much easier for a purebred -- like me. Someone born a werewolf. Teaching a mutt takes time.”

“I don’t think I like being called that,” Scott muttered.

“Well, you were bitten. What do you want to be called?” Derek rolled his eyes and continued, “I’ve never taught a mutt before, I’m not even sure I can. I’ve only seen mutts taught by the Alpha who bit them. But I know you’re going to need concentration. You’re going to need to get rid of distractions. Like that damn girl…”

“Allison? Because of her family?” Scott snapped, “She’s not…”

“I hear a little anger in your voice,” Derek observed, “Good. That’s what you need, but more. Primal rage. It will act like an anchor between your humanity and your wolf. You can’t get angry enough as long as you have something, someone like her in your life. Stay away from her. At least until after the full moon.”

“Fine. I can follow your rules if you can teach me. I’ll stay away from Allison.”

* * *

 

Scott fell backwards onto Allison’s bed. She leapt on top of him, straddling him and pressing her lips against his. “Take your shirt off,” she whispered breathlessly.

“You’re sure?” Scott whispered back, just as out of breath.

“Are you sure?” Allison teased, “Or is that a stupid question?”

“Like the world’s stupidest,” Scott grinned, rising into a sitting position.

Allison slipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. She took in a sharp breath, taking in Scott’s athletic frame in all its glory. She was going to have to get him some less baggy clothes. As her fingers trailed down his chest and along each individual ab, she wondered if it would be inappropriate to make him wear nothing but spandex all of the time.

And then there came a knock at her door.

“Just a second!” Allison called out, waving frantically at Scott. Taking the hint, he grabbed his shirt and ducked into her closet. He shut the door, and Allison took a deep breath before going to her bedroom door and opening it.

“Thanks for knocking,” Allison said, “Dad never does.”

“What’re you doing up here?” Kate asked. Her tone was curious, but not suspicious. That was lucky.

“Sending some e-mails,” Allison said, pointing at her open laptop.

“The boyfriend?” Kate asked with a suggestive tone.

“Nope,” Allison shook her head, “E-mailing PETA about my wingnut father who just guns down innocent animals in school parking lots.”

Kate laughed. “Which has nothing to do with him grounding you, and telling you not to see Scott?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “I am not some angsty teenager girl who looks at her dad and tells him ‘I hate you and I wish you were dead’.”

“But…” Kate smirked.

“But I hate him and I wish he was dead,” Allison grimaced.

“That’s what a normal, angry teenager sounds like,” Kate laughed again, “I was starting to worry that Chris was raising some kind of well-adjusted freak. What’s with the history books all over your desk?”

“It’s a stupid project,” Allison sank into her desk chair, “We have to research some historical event that has to do with our family history.”

“I bet that sucks for kids with boring families,” Kate smiled, “Fortunately, you don’t have that problem. Google ‘La Bete du Gevaudan’, see what comes up.”

“The Beast of Gevaudan?” Allison wondered, “What’s that got to do with us?”

“I’m not doing your homework for you,” Kate snickered, “Good luck. I’m going out, just wanted to check in before I left.”

“Are you coming back tonight?” Allison asked.

Kate winked suggestively. “Maybe.”

As Kate left, Allison turned to the Google search and started reading aloud -- at least until she was sure there were no adults in earshot. “In 1766 in the province of Lazere, La Bete killed over 100 people…”

Scott cautiously emerged from the closet. “What is that?”

“Some old legend,” Allison shrugged, “That apparently has to do with my family. Mysterious animal attacks plaguing a town. Sounds familiar, but this drawing here does not look like a mountain lion to me.”

“What does it look like?” Scott asked, pulling his shirt on. It was clear from Allison’s wrapt attention to her schoolwork that their romantic evening was over.

“Looks like a wolf. A really big wolf.”

* * *

 

 

Scott left Allison’s room through her window. He’d parked about a block away from her house -- though now he really needed to hurry home to avoid his mother’s wrath. He was almost to the car, when a rustling of leaves and low growl caught his ear.

“Derek, I had to at least tell her my phone was broken,” Scott announced, “Don’t be mad. I’m staying away from her from here on out.”

No answer. Scott peered into the dark leaves -- and two glowing red eyes peered back. That was not Derek. That was the Alpha.

Scott turned and sprinted back to his car, yanking the door open, jumping, and slamming the door shut in one swift motion. The windows were fogged up from condensation, but he could still manage to make out the hulking creature that prowled outside. It raised itself up onto its hind legs and lifted one clawed finger… and began to trace a design on the driver’s side window. A spiral.

A spiral that looked very familiar.

* * *

 

“I have not actually finished all of my homework,” Buffy confessed, “So really cutting this patrol short tonight would be pretty great.”

“I understand,” Giles nodded -- and he did. But homework was nothing compared to destiny.

Buffy frowned. “You’re a faculty member. Shouldn’t you be trying to tell me how important my academics are?”

“Stopping vampires is truly my greatest priority,” Giles shrugged.

Buffy’s eyes shot daggers at him. “After dusting two of them last night, I think they’re probably taking another breather.”

“This town sure is weird,” a female voice cut in, “Sitting around talking so openly about monsters. I guess the cemetery probably isn’t all that crowded after sunset.”

Giles and Buffy both spun around to see who’d barged in on the conversation. She was pretty, but the most noticeable thing about her was the shotgun she was casually resting on her right shoulder.

“Who are you?” Buffy demanded.

“I’ve got the gun,” the woman replied, “So I think I’ll be asking the questions. Though I think I’ve got a pretty clear picture. Stuffy British guy and a little girl, it can only be one of two things.”

“Which are?” Giles asked.

“One is kinda gross and highly illegal,” the woman mused, “The other, of course, is that you’re a Watcher and his Slayer. Heard you were in town. So what’s your name, girl?”

“Heard from who?” Buffy asked, “The other hunters?”

“Again, I have the gun, so I’ll be asking the questions.”

“I’ve got superpowers, what’s your point?”

“Does your Watcher?” the woman finally lifted the shotgun off her shoulder and aimed it at Giles. “What’s your name?”

Buffy held up her hands in surrender. “I’m Buffy.”

“Buffy Summers?” the woman pondered, “That’s an awfully big coincidence.”

“What is?” Giles asked, looking surprisingly calm.

“That I’m friends with Allison,” Buffy explained, “Obviously she’s one of the Argent hunters.”

“Kate,” the woman said, apparently stunned by how much Buffy knew, “You know more than you’ve let on.”

“Well, we’ve been meaning to have a chat,” Buffy rolled her eyes, “But every time I run into one of you, you’re being all threatening and not very nice. Why is that?”

There was quiet sound of movement behind Kate -- and then suddenly she was on the ground, wrestling with a man clad in an out-of-date jean jacket.

“Someone has to teach these vampires about fashion,” Buffy remarked, not moving to do anything about the undead monster before her.

Giles simply gave her a stern look.

“Fine, I’ll stake him before he kills her,” Buffy sighed, gripping the stake in her own jacket’s pocket and striding up to the struggling duo and plunging the weapon into the vampire’s back. As he exploded into ash, Buffy reached through him to grab Kate’s gun and pull it free from her grasp.

Kate fell back to the ground with a resigned sigh. “So what? Now you threaten me with the gun and I answer all your questions? It seems like you already know an awful lot. And I’m not filling in any blanks for you.”

Giles nodded. “I do have some questions. After last night’s display with the mountain lion, I assume you’ve found the Alpha werewolf?”

“She’s not even pointing the gun at me, Jeeves,” Kate rolled her eyes, “Your interrogation technique needs some work.”

“I’m not threatening you for information,” Buffy exclaimed, “We’re all on the same team. Team stop evil monsters, right? We should be working together. What is with all the cranky?”

“There’s a long history between the Argents and the Watchers,” Kate said, “Maybe yours can fill you in. I’ve got better things to do.”

Buffy scowled. Her frustration was nearly tangible -- and became all the more clear when she bent Kate’s shotgun in half. “If you’re not helping, stay out of the way,” she announced, tossing the ruined weapon to the hunter, “Go home.”

Kate sneered, but she had no witty comeback this time. She snatched the gun off the ground and took off the way she’d come from.

“Apparently, we have a lot to talk about.” For once, it was Buffy’s turn to give Giles a stern look.

* * *

 

Scott made it home in the nick of time -- just as his mother was about to call him to find out where the hell he was. She gave him only a little bit of grief about “cutting it awfully close” and then headed out the door to the hospital. Scott did his best to make himself dinner while trying to calm down. He was still jumpy when he made his way upstairs to his bedroom -- where he shut the window and closed the blinds before even turning on the lights. If the Alpha was outside, he didn’t even want to know.

“What happened?” Derek’s voice asked.

Scott nearly jumped out of his skin. He flicked his bedside lamp on. “Derek, when I texted you it was not an invitation to show up at my house, in my bedroom! What if I were armed? What if I were naked?”

Derek did not seem to care either way. “Did he talk to you?”

“Oh yeah,” Scott quipped, “We had a lovely chat about the weather.”

“You didn’t get anything off of him? From your other senses?” Derek asked, more patient than he’d ever seemed before, “Remember that your senses are heightened. There’s unspoken communication. Think back. What feeling did you get off of him?”

Scott sat down on his bed, thinking hard. “Anger.”

“At you?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, “But it was anger. I could feel it when he drew the spiral.”

“He did what?” Derek was clearly alarmed.

“He drew a spiral on the window of my car. What’s it mean?”

“It’s nothing,” Derek made his way towards the door.

“You can’t do that!” Scott blurted out, “I’m trusting you to teach me. So no secrets. It’s the same spiral you buried your sister under. What does it mean?”

Derek turned and locked eyes with Scott. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

* * *

 

No one was in a particularly good mood in the library that morning. Stiles -- everyone knew -- was still upset that his father had been hit by a car. Willow had been pretty grumpy the past two days as well, though she hadn’t filled anyone in on the “why”. Xander was much more surprised by Giles’ and Buffy’s sour moods.

“Should I have brought donuts?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Buffy groaned, “I’m just… I ran into Allison’s aunt last night. These hunters don’t like us. It’s Giles’ fault.”

“It’s not my fault,” Giles countered, “Whatever happened between the Argent hunters and the Watchers’ Council was before my time. I mean, before I was born.”

“Dinosaur age?” Xander offered helpfully.

“Shouldn’t we save this history lesson until Scott gets here?” Stiles snipped.

Xander shrugged. “I don’t know that Scott’s going to make it. He said something about avoiding Allison. And Jackson.”

“So can we tell everyone then?” Willow groused, shooting a glare at Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes and nodded.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Tell us what?”

“Stiles was looking into the alpha werewolf’s victims,” Willow explained, “There’s a pretty huge connection between the two of them. House fires.”

“The Hale fire,” Stiles concluded, “If the werewolf isn’t Peter Hale, then someone else has a bone to pick about a werewolf house burning down.”

Buffy sighed. “We could probably make even more progress here if the Argents would tell us what they know. Or work with us in any respect.”

“That’s all well and good,” Giles interrupted, “But I must imagine that they’ve captured or kill the Alpha by now.”

“What makes you think that?” Xander asked.

Giles wiped his glasses with a handkerchief -- instead of rolling his eyes. “Quite simply, no mountain lion would wander into the school parking lot so easily. Not with so many cars there. I have to imagine it was released there so that it could be shot, and the community would rest at ease. Why would the hunters do so if the werewolf’s killings would continue?”

“Peter is still in the nursing home,” Stiles pointed out, “I checked.”

Buffy shot a glare at Giles. “I guess you need to go play nice with the hunters to find out.”

* * *

 

Scott took his usual seat in the desk behind Stiles -- though Stiles ignored him completely. It didn’t take heightened senses to figure out that Stiles was furious.

“How’s your dad?” Scott asked cautiously.

Nothing.

“It’s just some, uh, soft tissue damage, right? A bruise, right?” Scott pressed on, “That doesn’t sound too serious, right? Is it?”

Nothing.

“I feel really bad about it, Stiles,” Scott groaned, “I know. I was there. I should have been able to help. But I don’t have the control I need to help when there’s people around. So… Derek is helping me figure it all out.”

“What an idiot,” Stiles grumbled.

Finally. Something to work with. “Derek’s an idiot?” Scott asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard that his whole head followed the motion. Scott didn’t need his senses to figure out the annoyance either. “No. If I were talking to you, I’d be talking about how stupid it is to trust him.”

“He didn’t kill his sister,” Scott pointed out.

“That’s fine,” Stiles snapped, “Because I’m not talking to you. Obviously.”

The bell rang and class began. Scott wasn’t feeling any better, utterly clueless for the first time in his life about how to make Stiles feel better.

* * *

 

When class ended, Scott received his answer.

“Fine, okay,” Stiles relented -- as though they had just been arguing, not sitting silently in a classroom for forty minutes -- as they made it out into the hallway, “Tell me what he said.”

Scott shrugged. “He says I need to get angry, tap into my animal side.”

“Isn’t that usually what happens right before you try to kill me?” Stiles pointed out.

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, “He says he’s not sure he can even teach me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. That was happening a lot today. “When are you meeting him?”

“After work,” Scott replied.

“Good,” Stiles said firmly, “That gives me until the end of the school day to teach you.”

* * *

 

Lydia stared at Allison. “This is the most boring thing I’ve ever talked about at lunch.”

“You don’t think it’s fascinating?” Allison countered, “I mean, nobody even knows what the creature really was.”

“Get to the part where this has something to do with you before I slip into a coma,” Lydia groaned.

“Okay, so,” Allison flipped open the old tome she’d procured from the school library and began to summarize the page, “The Beast of Gevaudan kills over 100 people between 1764 and 1767. The church says it’s a messenger from Satan, and King Louis the 15th sends out his best hunters to kill it. They fail.”

“Here comes that coma,” Lydia sighed. “Oh, and Cordelia. She’ll be loads of fun for us when you have a history book sitting on the table when she arrives.”

“Okay, okay,” Allison hastened her explanation, “So, this guy eventually kills it. He says that his wife and son were among the Beast’s first victims. His name was Henri Argent.”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow. “You’re doing your whole project on how one of your ancestors killed a big wolf? That doesn’t seem that impressive.”

“Not just a big wolf,” Allison raised her eyebrows in excitement, “Look at this picture. What’s it look like to you?” She held up the page in question -- a dark illustration of a massive, hulking creature with glowing red eyes.

Lydia just stared, as if in shock.

“Lydia?” Allison asked, “Are you okay?”

Lydia snapped to. “It looks like a really big wolf, Allison. See you in history.” 

* * *

 Scott and Stiles had not expected Allison to come into the library at the end of lunch. Stiles was studying a page he had printed out from the Internet -- details on werewolves -- while munching on an apple. Scott, meanwhile, was hiding behind a large science textbook that he had opened and stood up on the table.

Initially, Allison had been too distracted to notice -- asking Giles if he had any more books about the Beast of Gevaudan. When he had given her one, however, she stationed herself at a nearby table.

“The book is making it obvious,” Stiles muttered, “At least turn a page every once in awhile.”

Scott peered over the top of the textbook. “So you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I do,” Stiles replied, “But this supernatural crap has infiltrated my life. I have to deal with it.”

“Couldn’t Xander or Willow figure this out just as easily?” Scott observed with a sly smile.

Stiles nearly choked on his apple. “Xander? Really? No, I’m the best Yoda you can get. Your Yoda I will be.”

“Uh, okay,” Scott nodded blankly.

“I said it backwards like…” Stiles stopped and stared suspiciously at Scott. “You still haven’t seen Star Wars?”

Scott shrugged. “Sorry, no.”

“I definitely still hate you,” Stiles snapped, scooping up his apple core and the textbook in one hand while grabbing his backpack with the other and rising to his feet. “I’ve got a plan. Meet me on the lacrosse field when I text you. Don’t make me wait.” He turned and stormed out the library’s double doors.

“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, rushing after him.

“Scott!” Allison exclaimed, jumping from the table to chase him.

It only took a moment for Scott to realize he could either catch up with Stiles now, or avoid Allison as he’d promised. For everyone’s protection, he veered into the men’s bathroom to hide.

* * *

 

“Hey, Stiles!” Buffy called out, spotting him practically racing through the halls. She caught up to him pretty easily all the same. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” Stiles said, slowing his pace all the same.

“Look, I know we’re all on edge right now,” Buffy said, “But… about Scott. You could ease up on him a little.”

Stiles shot her an icy glare. “Why?”

“He’s not the only one with powers who’s around,” Buffy pointed out, “I could just as easily have saved your dad from getting hurt. And I could just have easily failed.”

Stiles shook his head. “You weren’t even there.”

“No, but I am faster than most people,” Buffy jabbed a finger to point behind them -- reminding Stiles of how ineffectual his avoidance tactics were more than anything.

“What’s your point?”

Buffy smiled serenely. “You and Scott are closer than anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t throw that friendship away over an accident. Which is what it was.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Stiles said flatly, “I will take it under advisement. But I have to go.”

“Lunch isn’t even over for like five minutes,” Buffy observed, “And isn’t your next period a free? What are you in such a rush for?”

Stiles scowled. “Scott. Of course.”

“Oh,” Buffy brightened considerably, “You guys are good, then?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Stiles replied. He was entirely unconvincing. He turned to leave, but then turned to add one afterthought to the conversation. “You’re right about us. He’s my best friend. And I’m his. Shouldn’t that count for something when he’s saving the day?”

“It’s not that easy, Stiles,” Buffy gave her best comforting smile, “Choosing who you’re saving? The weight of that… sometimes you just have to follow your instincts. Sometimes you just have to help whoever’s nearest. You can’t help everyone. That’s a lesson you only get to learn the hard way, and I’m sure Scott feels loads of guilt without it being piled on from his friends.”

“How’d you learn it?”

Buffy frowned. “Just like I said. The hard way.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t completely unusual for Scott and Stiles to spend their free period on the lacrosse field. But typically, Scott wasn’t tied up in duct tape.

“I swear, if you tell Xander about this,” Scott said warningly.

“Trust me,” Stiles agreed, “I don’t want to hear those jokes any more than you do.”

“I still don’t get the plan,” Scott complained, wiggling in his constraints, “Why did you swipe Coach’s heart rate monitor?”

“Borrowed,” Stiles corrected, “Because I think you shift when your heart rate accelerates. Anger, fear, excitement… you know? You can shift when we’re fighting a witch because your heart rate is going through the roof, but that’s the same reason you might shift around Allison. ‘Cause your heart rate is really going through the roof.”

“So...the duct tape?”

“I’m getting there,” Stiles continued, “So, I got the heart monitor on you and I synced it to my phone. Now we just have to teach you to control your heart rate. I think you’ll be able to do it pretty easily if you can hear the beeping.”

“So… about the duct tape?”

“I’m just going to keep throwing balls at you, you’re not gonna block them and you’re gonna not get mad about it.” Stiles grinned.

“You’re still mad,” Scott observed.

Stiles just picked up his lacrosse stick and launched the first ball. Stiles wasn’t the best lacrosse player, but he did have really excellent aim. Scott hadn’t really noticed that before -- but then, he’d never been what Stiles was aiming at before.

“Don’t talk,” Stiles instructed, “You’re supposed to be concentrating on staying totally calm.” And with that, he launched another ball -- connecting directly with Scott’s face.

“Totally calm,” Scott muttered.

* * *

 

After the number of strange things that had been going on in town since the semester started, Jackson was almost relieved to see Stiles and Scott behaving like two fairly ordinary idiots -- Scott duct taped into helplessness while Stiles pelted him with balls. Jackson chuckled and kept walking by, totally unnoticed to the oblivious duo of morons.

He was unimpressed, he almost missed Scott fall to the ground -- and if it hadn’t been for the roar-like sounds that came before he would have missed Scott tearing through the duct tape that held him.

Alarmed -- and worried about being noticed -- Jackson hurried back into the locker room. He hadn’t been there very long when the freakish pair wandered in from whatever they’d been doing. They kept their voices down, but that only kept casual eavesdroppers from listening in -- not someone who was actively interested in their secrets, like Jackson.

“So Derek’s right, it’s anger?” Stiles mused.

“Which means he’s right, I can’t be around Allison,” Scott agreed.

Stiles pondered this. “Forever? Or just until after the next full moon?”

“Have you seen Derek?” Scott replied, “He’s totally alone. There’s gotta be a reason for that. What if I can never be around her again?”

“I think anything that makes you not dead for longer is a good thing. But we’ll figure this out.”

“Do you smell that?” Scott asked, completely changing the subject.

“We’re in a boys locker room, trust me, I smell things,” Stiles quipped.

“Smells like something’s rotting,” Scott grimaced, “Let’s get out of here.”

Jackson instinctively touched his hand to the back of his neck. There was something oozing through the bandage there. Nausea crept up almost instantly, and Jackson raced to the sinks -- sweat droplets forming all over his forehead as he went. He heaved into the sink and watched, helpless, as clawed fingers emerged out of his mouth….

….and then vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared. Some kind of hallucination? Things were just getting stranger -- and Jackson was becoming more and more convinced that Scott had the explanation.

* * *

 

Allison was nestled into the corner of the stacks in the library. Not the most usual place to study -- especially since there were tables specifically designed for this near the entrance to the room -- but with everyone else in classes and the librarian hidden away in his office, she basically had free reign of the room. And the story of the Beast of Gevaudan kept calling to her. She wanted to absorb every detail -- no matter how minute. There was more to this legend, she could feel it in her bones. In her blood.

She was so absorbed in the history book she was reading, she didn’t even notice Jackson until he had settled on the floor next to her. “What’re you reading?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Just stuff for a history project,” Allison said vaguely, barely turning her eyes from the page. But Jackson didn’t move. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jackson nodded, “I wanted to talk. I want to say I’m sorry, I’ve been a jerk to you. And even more to Scott.”

Allison didn’t answer.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I believe you’re serious,” Allison replied, “I’m just not sure I believe you’re sincere.”

Jackson sighed. “Do you know what it’s like to be the best player on the team? To have every single person in the stands chanting your name? And then some kid comes along and everyone starts looking at him instead of you?”

Allison just shook her head.

“It feels like something’s been taken from you,” Jackson went on, “And you start to feel like you’d do anything to get it back.”

“Haven’t you heard there’s no ‘I’ in team?” Allison said. It was a feeble effort to lighten the mood.

“But there is a ‘me’,” Jackson retorted. Allison flinched. “That was a joke.” His efforts were, apparently, even more feeble than hers. “You must really hate me.”

“Not at all,” Allison assured him.

“I’m glad,” Jackson smiled, “I like you. And Scott. And I want you guys to like me. I want to get to know you guys better, be friends with you. So… what are you reading?”

* * *

 

Economics was the last class he had for the day, and Scott could not wait for the day to be over. At least Stiles seemed to be less upset. He was following Scott around, refusing to let him take off the heart monitor that was synced to Stiles’ phone.

Which is why he knew Stiles was going to be obsessively checking that phone all through this course -- especially because Allison managed to procure a seat for herself immediately behind him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” she whispered, “When are you getting your phone fixed?”

“Soon,” Scott assured her.

“I switched lab partners,” she went on.

Scott shot a look at Stiles, who was keenly listening in.

“To who?”

“To you, dummy.”

“But my grade is awful,” Scott stammered, “I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Maybe I can help bring yours up?” Allison squinted, “Do you not want to be my lab partner?”

“No, no, no,” Scott protested, “It’s not that--”

“Great, well, now I have an excuse to bring you over. So come by my place around eight.”

“Settle down, kids!” Coach Finstock announced, striding into the room and slamming his books onto the desk. The classroom had been relatively quiet before his entrance but -- as always -- Coach hadn’t noticed that anyone was behaving. “Who wants to summarize last night’s reading for me? Not you, Greenberg. How about McCall?”

“The reading? From last night?” Scott stuttered.

“The reading of the Gettysburg Address,” Coach quipped, “That’s sarcasm. You’re familiar?”

Scott shot a look at Stiles. “Extremely.”

“So, summarize the reading for me. Did you read it?”

“I think I forgot.”

“Oh, good work,” Coach snapped, “Not like you’re not averaging a D in this class. Can’t keep you on the team with a D, Scott. Summarize the previous night’s reading.”

Scott squirmed. He could hear the quiet beeping coming from Stiles’ phone. He knew his heart rate was increasing -- but he couldn’t help it. His face was starting to flush from embarrassment, and his hands were dropped by the sides of the desk.

“The night before that?” Coach pressed on, “Anything you’ve ever read? Back of cereal box? Anything at all?” Scott stayed silent -- though Stiles’ phone beeped on -- but Coach wasn’t finished. “Thank you, McCall, for extinguishing any hope I had for your generation. You’re doing suicide runs to start next practice.”

Fingers laced between Scott’s limp fingers. Soft, slender, gentle. The hand squeezed his reassuringly. Allison. And then the beeping from Stiles’ phone began to slow. His heart rate was dropping.

Allison wasn’t making him weak. She was helping him. Without even knowing it, Allison was saving him.

* * *

 

“I don’t get it though,” Scott said, scratching his head after class. “When I’m with her, kissing her, touching her…”

“That’s not the same though,” Willow pointed out, “That’s hormonal teenage boy stuff.”

“Right,” Stiles agreed, “You start thinking about sex, she’s not gonna bring you back from that. But it’s definitely gonna get the heart rate going.”

“Are you thinking about sex right now?” Xander asked.

Scott nodded sheepishly, “Now that you mention it…”

“I was too,” Xander admitted.

“Point is, she’s sort of anchoring you to your humanity,” Stiles went on.

“Because I love her?” Scott asked.

“Exactly.” Stiles nodded.

Xander interjected first. “Wait. Because you what?”

“It’s not even been a month, Scott,” Willow pointed out.

“Did I just say that?”

“Yes, you did,” Stiles said, “Now, let’s…”

“I’m in love with her.” Scott repeated.

“Wait a minute,” Willow scoffed.

“I’m totally in love with her.”

“Let’s not start writing sonnets,” Stiles interrupted, “We have things to figure out. You can’t always be around her.”

“So what do we do?” Xander asked.

“I’m getting an idea,” Stiles said thoughtfully.

Scott shook his head. “Not again. This is gonna get me in trouble.”

“Maybe not,” Stiles smiled.

“It’s gonna cause me physical pain?”

“Oh, definitely.” Stiles’ smile grew even bigger.

* * *

 

Derek sank onto the bed in his Uncle Peter’s room. He was a little surprised they were still letting him into the building, given all of the drama that had unfolded the last time he was here. Fortunately, this time he came alone and wasn’t hunting for monsters.

This time he was hunting for answers.

“I need your help,” he said -- staring into the vacant, but open, eyes of his uncle and doing his best to ignore the scarring that still marked half of his uncle’s face. “If you can hear me… do something. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything.”

Nothing.

“Someone killed Laura,” Derek went on, his lip trembling. He hadn’t actually said those words out loud yet. Mostly he’d just tried to convince people he wasn’t that someone. “Whoever it is, he’s an Alpha now. I need to know if you know anything. Is it someone in our family?”

Nothing.

Derek couldn’t handle it. “Do something, dammit!” he shouted, rising to his feet.

This time there was a response -- though not from his uncle. “Do you really think yelling is going to break him out of a coma he’s been in for six years?” his nurse snapped, striding into the room. Jennifer -- again. Seemed like she was always working.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Derek snarled.

“Have patience,” Jennifer replied, “If it was as simple as yelling at him, we’d have had him out of here ages ago. He’ll respond one day. He’s getting the best care, I promise. Now, just give him time.”

“I don’t have any more time,” Derek stormed past the nurse and out into the hallway.

* * *

 

Stiles’ plan had worked -- after a fashion -- although now the two of them were stuck in detention. Stiles had framed Scott for keying a truck in the Senior parking lot, which -- predictably -- had caused a group of Seniors to try to beat him to a pulp. That had been the plan all along. But Scott managed to keep himself from transforming by thinking of Allison, by listening for her voice.

The Seniors who had attacked him managed to avoid detention -- which was the only part of the plan to go awry. Had anyone but Mr. Harris intervened in the violence, they surely would have been bearing the brunt of the punishment. Instead, Mr. Harris had brought both Stiles and Scott to detention and let the Seniors off without any sort of consequence.

Scott healed quickly enough now that there was just one problem left. “Sir? Excuse me?” Scott raised his hand and attempted a polite inquiry. “I know this is detention but I have to go to work. I don’t want to get fired.”

Mr. Harris barely lifted his eyes from whatever it was he was reading at his desk.

Scott sighed and turned to Stiles -- who was doing absolutely everything he could to avoid making eye contact.

“I thought we were good, Stiles.”

“We’re better,” Stiles said, “Not good.”

“So, that wasn’t just because you knew I’d heal and I could learn from it,” Scott realized, “You were still punishing me.”

“Yup.”

“You’re my best friend, Stiles, I can’t do all of this if you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad anymore,” Stiles relented, “I know you can’t save everyone all of the time. But you have something special now, you can do things even Buffy can’t. Whether you like it or not. So, you don’t have a choice. You have to try. You have to do something.”

“I know,” Scott nodded seriously, “I know.”

Stiles turned his face towards Scott and gave him a wry smile. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

* * *

 

“Late again, Scott?” Dr. Deaton’s voice called out, “I hope this isn’t turning into a habit.”

Derek stepped into the backroom, where the veterinarian leaned over a table, filling out some sort of form on behalf of one of his animal patients.

“Can I help you?” the vet asked. He seemed completely calm, even down to his heart rate.

Derek nodded. “I hope so. I’m looking to learn about the deer they found three months ago, with the spiral carved into its side.” He took a folded up paper out of his pocket and held it up -- a copy of a police report he’d managed to get his hands on, with a picture of the carcass in question.

“It was just a deer,” Dr. Deaton shrugged, “I didn’t find it. They just called me to see if I’d ever seen anything like it. I told them no.”

For the first time, his heartbeat changed. Just for a moment. “So you lied to them?” Derek raised an eyebrow. “And now you think you’re going to lie to me.”

“That’s not --” But Deaton’s protestations were cut short -- Derek threw him up against the wall.

“Are you protecting someone?” he growled, “What do you know?”

“What are you doing?” Scott’s alarmed voice rang out, “Let him go!”

Derek wasn’t about to be interrupted -- he slammed the vet’s head into the wall, knocking him out cold. “He knows something, Scott,” Derek growled, “And he won’t be able to keep himself from healing when he’s unconscious. I can prove he knows something.”

“He has nothing to do with any of this,” Scott shouted.

Derek turned on the teenager. “You wanted to know what the spiral means? It’s our symbol for revenge. And you could have asked him.”

“You think he’s the Alpha?” Scott was incredulous.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Derek turned to face the vet, his claws out, and raised his hand to strike.

Scott’s own clawed hand grabbed hold of Derek’s arm. “Hit him again,” he growled, “You’ll see me get angry.”

Derek stared at Scott -- who changed back to his human form. “You just…”

“Changed when I wanted to,” Scott nodded, looking pretty pleased with himself, “And changed back. Looks like you need me more than I need you.”

Derek sighed and nodded. “Do you have any kind of plan?”

“Sort of,” Scott said, “Give me an hour, then meet me at the school.”

* * *

 

Giles’ finger hovered over the doorbell button. Of all the unpleasant things he’d had to do as a Watcher -- of all the unpleasant things still to come -- this ranked fairly high on the list. He swallowed nervously.

And the door opened.

“Can I help you?” a woman with short, red hair asked. Not Kate. That was a relief, at least.

“Yes, I was looking to speak to--”

“You’re the Watcher?” the woman interrupted -- she sounded less than pleased.

Giles inclined his head. “I suppose there’s only so many British men about town.”

“This is, what?” the woman inquired coldly, “You want our help with something?”

“Not exactly,” Giles replied, “I simply have some questions.”

“I’m sure Chris has some for you as well,” the woman stepped aside and waved Giles inside.

“You have a lovely home,” Giles said politely as he stepped inside.

* * *

 

“You’re going to Willow’s again?”

Buffy stopped, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah, it’s just there’s a big test in math tomorrow,” Buffy fibbed, “I need some serious study help tonight.”

“Okay,” her mom nodded, “I’m glad to see you taking your school work so seriously. I was just thinking, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a girl’s night in. You, me, your sister… some terrible old movie. Maybe tomorrow night?”

Buffy forced a smile. Tomorrow was Friday -- she couldn’t claim to have a big test the next day. But it did give her a whole day to figure out how to fit patrolling in around quality mom time. “Yeah, maybe.”

And, without waiting for a response, she was out the door. “Bye mom!”

* * *

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Stiles pointed out.

Scott nodded. “I know, but do you guys have any better ideas?”

Xander shrugged. “I’m a big fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away.”

“Just make sure we can get inside.”

“The side door to the library is probably open,” Xander pointed out, “Hell, Giles is probably still here.”

“No, he was going to see the Argents tonight,” Stiles reminded them, reaching into the back of his Jeep for bolt cutters, “We’re going to have to break into the school.”

Xander shook his head. “Something I really thought I would never be trying to do.”

Dereks’ black Camaro pulled into the parking lot and smoothly sailed into the parking space next to the Jeep.

“Where’s Deaton?” Scott demanded as soon as Derek was out of the vehicle.

Derek jabbed a thumb to the car. “He’s in the back. What are we doing?”

Stiles peered through the car’s window -- catching sight of of the veterinarian, unconscious and bound in duct tape.

“We’re gonna lure out the Alpha,” Scott explained, turning and walking towards the school. Stiles and Xander followed behind him. Derek, however, stayed planted on the pavement.

* * *

 

Giles met Chris Argent’s steely gaze for what seemed like an eternity.

“You have questions?” the hunter finally asked.

“Indeed,” Giles replied, “Simply, looking for confirmation of a theory. The mountain lion, the other night, that was to put the town at ease? A scapegoat for the werewolf attacks?”

“That was the intention,” Chris replied.

“So the Alpha werewolf has been found and stopped?” Giles pressed further.

Chris scowled. “Not exactly.”

Giles raised an eyebrow. “The timing of the mountain lion incident seems a bit peculiar then.”

“It escaped,” Chris explained, “Or so I’m told.”

“Brilliant, really,” Giles took off his glasses and began to wipe them with a handkerchief, “Absolutely. Good show.”

“And what exactly has your Slayer done to stop the imminent threat to this town?” Chris snapped.

“Which threat?” Giles mused, placing his glasses carefully back on the bridge of his nose, “While you’ve obsessively focused on this one single werewolf, my Slayer has tackled numerous supernatural threats. And, for the record, saved the entire Earth from a demonic onslaught.”

Chris rolled his eyes at this. “She already gave me a whole guilt trip for not helping with that one. Relax, I get it, your Slayer is the best thing that’s ever happened to fighting monsters.”

It was Giles’ turn to roll his eyes. “What is this? Where does this ire even come from?”

“You took our leader,” Chris snapped, “Are the people that the Council loses so not important that you don’t even know about this?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Giles blanched.

Chris launched into his explanation -- it was as though he’d been dying to unload this since his first encounter with the Slayer. Perhaps even longer. “About a century ago, a group of Watchers came to us and told us that they’d identified our leader, Corinne Argent, as a potential Slayer and they wanted to train her. She was already trained in hunting werewolves, the best in the world. But they needed to train her to hunt vampires. They promised that she would come back to us after her training, with a Watcher, and that the Argents and the Watchers Council would share our resources. Would work together. Like your Slayers wants to do now. But Corinne never made it back. She died, somehow, in training. She was never even Called as the Slayer.”

“How?” Giles asked.

Chris shrugged. “We don’t know. We’re lucky we even found out she was dead. They never gave us any details. And when we tried to get them to hold up their end of the bargain, share their resources and work with us, they refused. They said the agreement was to do that when her training was finished -- and it never was.”

“I can see why--”

“I’m not done,” Chris stepped in, “The Argent Order is always supposed to be led by a woman of the Argent line. They have the temperament and the skill. Until Kate was born, Corinne was the last one. When my father retires, Kate will take over.”

“That’s comforting,” Giles said, feeling exactly the opposite.

“It’s her destiny to make right what your Council made wrong,” Chris glared at the Watcher.

“Perhaps we can start on that ourselves,” Giles suggested, “Corinne wanted you to work alongside the Council. And I understand that they betrayed their deal with you. But I’m not asking you to work alongside the Council. Just alongside one Watcher and one Slayer. Neither of whom were even born when the trust between our organizations was broken.”

Chris thought it over for a moment and then finally extended his hand for Giles to shake. “That’s not unreasonable,” he agreed, “Long as we don’t have to trust each other. But you can trust this: if you screw us, there will be hell to pay.”

Giles clasped Chris’ hand in his own and shook. “And if my Slayer comes to any harm because of you, I will rip you to pieces myself.”

“Then we’re all on the same page.”

* * *

 

Buffy hadn’t been on patrol very long at all when she found her first enemy -- though it was not a vampire. It was Kate.

“Looks like it’s just a girl’s night out,” Kate observed.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “So, you’re doing a whole stalking thing now? We have got to get you a really good therapist.”

“Here’s my question,” Kate went on -- ignoring Buffy’s jab, “You say we’re both on Team Stop Evil Monsters. But in my experience, things with super strength, super speed, et cetera… those are the evil monsters. You’re definitely not a human. Not like any human I’ve ever met. So how do you expect me to trust you, instead of killing you?”

“There’s a whole prophecy,” Buffy quipped, “If my Watcher were here, he’d probably have said it two or three times by now. He just loves it. Also, if I were an evil monster, do you think I’d be putting up with you?”

“Oh, you’d have killed me by now?” Kate sneered, “That’s your proof?”

“I’m not going to kill a human,” Buffy promised.

“Me either,” Kate nodded her agreement, “But I don’t think you’re human.”

* * *

 

“What do we do if the Alpha doesn’t show up?” Xander asked, pushing open the door to the school’s main office.

“What do we do if the Alpha does show up?” Stiles asked, more urgently.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” This was maybe the worst plan he’d ever come up with, but it seemed to be the only way to get to the bottom of the mystery once and for all. “All I know is that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack.”

“So, if he comes are you part of his pack?” Stiles wondered.

“I don’t know that either,” Scott shook his head, “But I really hope not.”

“Okay, here’s the mic for the intercom,” Xander passed the device to Scott, and flipped a switch on the electronic board it was attached to, “That’s your cue.”

Scott let out his best howl.

“That was awful,” Xander frowned, “You sounded like a cat being strangled.”

“That was a howl though, right?”

“Technically,” Stiles nodded, “But maybe you should try that again.”

“I don’t know how to howl,” Scott complained, “No one teaches that.”

“But the wolf inside you knows,” Stiles pointed out, “So, let it out. Let _it_ howl. Without trying to kill us. Remember everything we worked on. You’re a werewolf. Not some little teen wolf. A werewolf.”

Scott nodded, inhaled and….

* * *

 

Buffy could only be grateful that Kate had decided to make this a fairer fight by not using guns -- maybe she didn’t want to have to replace them after what had happened to the last gun she’d aimed at the Slayer.

Not that Kate didn’t have other weapons at her disposal. Buffy had made short work of the cattle prod, but the series of knives were proving a little bit tougher. Not as tough as explaining all the slices through her clothing to her mother.

Kate lunged again, her blade just missing Buffy. Buffy brought her elbow down, slamming it into Kate’s back. “This whole fight seems real unnecessary,” Buffy said, not for the first time.

“Haven’t seen anything else to fight tonight,” Kate hissed, rolling back onto her feet.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “That usually means you go home, not you pick a fight with someone on your team.”

“You’re not on my team,” Kate snapped, bringing a knife down towards her opponent. Buffy blocked the blow, but she was getting more frustrated by the minute.

“Time to go back to our corners, I think,” Buffy slammed her foot into Kate’s chest -- sending her flying backwards. As an added bonus, she dropped her knives.

That wasn’t about to stop the hunter, however, who leapt back up to her feet and started to charge again.

But a loud, chilling howl stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned her head to look in the direction the sound had come from. “That sounded like it came from…”

“The school,” Buffy finished -- taking off at a run.

* * *

 

“What the hell are you trying to do?” Derek shouted as soon as the trio of teenage boys emerged from the school, “I thought you were trying to lure the Alpha, not every werewolf in the state. And the state police. And who knows who else?”

“I didn’t realize it would be so loud,” Scott said sheepishly.

“It was loud,” Stiles agreed, “And it was awesome!”

“Shut up,” Derek said flatly.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf,” Stiles quipped.

“What did you do with Deaton?” Scott asked, noticing the empty backseat of the Camaro.

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek said -- noticing the same thing himself.

A massive beast rose up behind Derek, as if out of nowhere, and slammed its claws into Derek’s back. It’s red eyes stared, unblinking, at Scott as it lifted Derek from the ground. Derek sputtered, blood pouring from his mouth. The monster threw him aside.

Xander, Scott, and Stiles -- for their parts -- had never run so quickly and had never been quite so desperate to be inside the high school. They slammed the door shut behind them.

“What was that?” Xander gasped.

Scott peered out the window of the door -- a door that couldn’t be locked thanks to Stiles’ bolt cutter. The monstrosity was coming towards them, casting a shadow over the entire walkway. “That’s the Alpha.”

 

...to be continued...

 


End file.
